Thesis
by malintzin
Summary: A college student from Yale disappears. A teacher had a fatal and mysterious heart attack a few months before. In the meantime, Jack and Sam try to stop smoking and live a wonderful autumn. Crossover with Tesis by A. Amenabar, JS.
1. Prologue

So, this is a new version of the first chapter, corrected thanks to cynically optimistic's precious advice! Then, the next two chapters are following just behind...

Disclaimer : I still have no imagination so this is still a cross-over between WAT and _Tesis_ by Alejandro Amenabar. Then, the story is set during autumn 2001, so I think you know what the other topic of the story is!

I don't own WAT, I don't own _Tesis_... I just playing with them during my vacations!

**_PROLOGUE_**

6 : 55 pm. The announcement requesting the few remaining students to start gathering their things and leave the library had resounded fifteen minutes earlier. The personal lamps adorning the long wooden desks were off, the comfortable seats back in place. The security guard was walking slowly along the corridors, checking one more time that nobody had stayed behind. In the background, he could hear the clear voices of the employees who were commenting how untidy and rude some of the students were, chatting about their plans for the evening, happy to get out from the stuffy and hushed atmosphere of the venerable library. The man smiled knowingly. He certainly could empathize with those people's relief to be able to speak out loud after along and tiring day of almost hushed words. As usual, he checked one last time the small room dedicated to the media section. Four wooden desks in the centre. Shelves covering the four walls. An antique camera in the corner. And of course, as usual, one lonely lamp was still on. Shaking his head in amusement, the guard walked quietly towards the young woman who was compulsively reading extracts of newspapers and playing nervously with her pen. He put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, making her start in surprise. In response, she brusquely pushed his hand away and looked up with a fugitive fearful stare that slowly faded as she became conscious of her surroundings. Suddenly ashamed by her strange reaction, the young woman smiled apologetically.

"Oh, Mitch… I'm sorry. I was so absorbed by… Well, you know me, I just didn't hear the announcement."

"_No problema, chica_," the guard soothed her, another sympathetic grin lifting his thin moustache. "C'mon, I'll gather your stuff while you put your papers back in place. There are a few minutes left before this place closes."

For the first time since he had entered the room, a quiet expression appeared on her face as she nodded in acceptance.

Sighing, Mitch locked the main doors.

"Y'know, _chica_, you should relax from time to time. No offence, but y'look like hell these days."

The young woman timidly looked down, holding her bag against her tightly.

"Yeah, I know…" she whispered in a tired voice. "It's just that damn thesis, you know. I have to finish it before next June and I haven't written anything good yet."

"Wanna hear a good piece of advice?" the man asked, quietly guiding her towards the park. "Take some free time. Relax. I'm not a specialist or a great teacher, but I'm sure you'll work better after a few days of vacation."

"We'll see," she replied simply, her mind clearly absorbed by some problems the guard could not decipher. "But thanks anyway, Mitch," she said finally with a small smile after a few seconds of silence.

Shrugging, he punched her shoulder playfully:

"Anytime, _chica_. Now go and get a long night of sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

Mitch waved one last time at her then resumed his walk, thinking that sometimes being a simple security guard was much better and easier than being a brilliant, promising student.

…/…

"So, how many today?" Samantha asked in a playful tone as she saw Jack almost jumping from his chair to get his pack of cigarettes. Really, the cigarette after dinner was the hardest to get rid of. Well, as far as she was concerned the first one in the morning gave her a hard time too. Then the one at the end of a case was quite difficult, she could tell. Good ending, bad ending, since her first day in the Missing Persons Unit, everything was an excuse to go out on the balcony and share a quiet moment with her superior.

"Less than you," Jack answered, joining her in the kitchen with the demonic pack.

"Then, how many?" she insisted as he tried to silence her banter with a soft kiss. Sam smiled and stole a cigarette. "Mine is empty. I'm gonna save this one for later, okay?" she explained with a mischievous grin. In fact, the hardest one to give up was the cigarette Jack and she used to share after making love. It had quickly become a somewhat sacred ritual, a way to postpone his inevitable departure, even for five minutes.

Still, tonight, he was hers entirely. Tonight, no early departure would remind her harshly that he was not hers to have in the first place. Tonight, the illusion that he was her man and no one else's would go on until the next morning. When a frowning Jack had announced to her first thing in the morning that Maria had taken the girls to her sister's for a few days of vacation, her first feeling had been sincere sympathy for him and his daughters since it seemed that one more time, he and Maria had been unable, maybe unwilling, to take vacations at the same time. At times like this one, her feelings were almost schizophrenic. Even if this kind of situation rejoiced her for it offered them the occasion to spend an entire night together, deep inside, she could not help but suffer for this family slowly but surely falling apart. Maybe it was her guilty but hidden conscience trying to make her realize the role she was playing in this process. However, the sole idea of being able to wake up in his arms the next morning had quickly overwhelmed her and she forgot everything but the anticipation she always felt when she knew she would be able of spending an entire night with him. Jack had noticed the well known light in her eyes and a small but impatient smile had formed on his lips too.

"Three," he said proudly. "One this morning after breakfast, one after we found the kid and this one," he counted on his fingers with mock application.

"Damn, you beat me today. I'm ashamed to admit I smoked five," Samantha commented as she let her head rest on his shoulder, quietly watching him enjoy his long waited cigarette.

"You'll do better tomorrow, I'm sure," Jack reassured her in a whisper, brushing her temple with butterfly kiss. Then, he asked with a mischievous grin, his fingers playing with a lock of golden hair: "By the way, don't I deserve a reward, or something?"

"For what?" Samantha feigned innocence.

"Let's say because, as you said earlier, I beat you today," he whispered with a low tone, the very one which made her feel special. The young woman suddenly shivered in anticipation. Suppressing the urge to utter the forbidden words, a task she found more and more difficult as days went by, she let her hand wander slowly towards his belt buckle.

"Well, I may think about a little something," she replied at last. Then she took the cigarette from his mouth, trashed it in the ashtray and replaced it with her lips. The feel of her mouth covering his, deepening the kiss, of her hands stroking his hair made her lover immediately forget his need for nicotine. He took her in his arms without warning, making her laugh with delight in the process and carried her to the bedroom.

Cigarettes were a severe addiction, they had come to learn that since the bet they made two months ago. Still, they had discovered another addiction during those two glorious months, an addiction they were unwilling or unable to fight. At least, not yet.


	2. Chapter one

**__**

Here's chapter one! Hope you'll like it...

A big thank you to CO!

Disclaimer : still don't own anything...

**__**

**_CHAPTER ONE_**

**_14 HOURS MISSING_**

Sitting in his office waiting for the last member of his team to arrive, Jack was enjoying a rare moment of tranquillity his job scarcely provided him. There had been no dreaded phone call in the early hours of the morning to make him jump out of his bed and rush to a distant part of town. This morning had been perfect. Just perfect. If only everyday could be like this one… Waking up besides Samantha was a precious moment which always filled his heart with a sweet emotion. He had watched her sleep deeply, playing with a lock of hair, stealing a butterfly kiss or caress, which always made her smile in her slumber but never woke her. Indeed, he had discovered that Samantha Spade, one of the most energetic and lively people he had ever met, was closer to a somewhat grumpy zombie than her true self until her first cup of coffee. The frown that appeared on her face when the alarm-clock reminded them there was a whole world outside was further proof of that. She hated the morning. Speaking in monosyllabic words, she walked to the kitchen her eyes still half closed barely affording him a greeting. In a nutshell, she wasn't the best person in the morning. However, he loved those moments. All that counted was that he was there with her, that he was able to contemplate this intimate side of her.

The way she walked into his office, purposely and quietly at the same time, was another thing he loved. Smiling, he greeted her without looking up.

"Hey, good morning. So, how many?"

He didn't know why, but today, he was almost scared of staring at her, scared that his face wouldn't be able to hide what he wasn't supposed to feel. Maybe the fact that Vivian had been giving him strange looks for two weeks was a good enough explanation. Or maybe was it because waking up beside her had filled him with such a feeling of happiness that he had forgotten the former pain caused by Maria's sudden decision of taking the girls on vacations?

Deciding not to let him win their bet, Sam announced triumphantly, "Absolutely none at the moment!" She smiled, adding in a mischievous whisper, "And I _know_ you had one before you left. I smelt it…"

The last comment finally made him look up in amusement. Samantha Spade didn't like the morning, and couldn't stand to lose in anything.

"Well, well… What a good start!" he replied ironically. "Let's wait until tonight and see who's going to win."

The idea of losing was unbearable to Jack Malone, too. And the opportunity to tease her was… _way_ too tempting.

"Pff… Okay, let's wait, big shot," she answered back with a devilish grin. "And, for your information, Danny just arrived, boss."

"Well, it's about time," Jack commented rolling his eyes as he got up and led the young woman out of his office.

…/…

After a few good humoured jokes about the mysterious reason behind Danny's lateness, the team had gathered in the bullpen, listening amusingly at Jack's constant and daily complaint about the malediction that seemed to prevent the team from finding a fifth agent. Indeed, since Harry's retirement six month ago, they had found it impossible to keep an agent in the team for more than a month. Maybe they expected too much from the newbie. Clearly, Jack was a difficult boss who picked up on the slightest error. Certainly, Danny had given the newcomers a rough time, especially to men, as if he was guarding his territory. Then there was fate like Cindy's car accident. Or there were plain morons who accomplished the great deed of provoking the entire team's animosity, just like Philip. The guy had joined the team the week before, forgotten to communicate an important testimony to the team, provoked Jack's anger, made Vivian yell at him then left the unit two days ago.

"By the way, Jack, any news about a new member? Vivian asked, quietly sipping her coffee. In a way, she was relieved not to have to deal with stupid Philip anymore. But on the other hand, the perspective of seeing the team reduced to four members one more time, meaning more work and less time spent with her family, greatly annoyed her.

His co-worker's traditional question made him stop his rambling.

"Well, I sent another demand to the brass upstairs. The only thing we can do is wait." He explained, sighing. Then, noticing the frown that appeared on his friend's face, he added encouragingly, "I _am_ sorry, Viv. We'll fix it so you can see Reggie, okay?"

"All right, thanks," she replied simply, thoughtful all of a sudden.

Even if Jack's reassurance had soothed her worries, Vivian couldn't help but wonder why her boss sometimes acted as if she was the only member of the team with a family to take care of. In fact, it was something that preoccupied her more and more these days. Whereas he tried to always make sure that she would be able to get home at a reasonable hour, he worked the same exhausting hours as single Danny and Samantha, sometimes more. She also had noticed that his answers to innocent questions about his family were vaguer and vaguer, especially when they concerned Maria. Answers like "They're doing well" or "She has lots of work" had gradually replaced comments like "We went to the beach for the week-end" or "We watched the last Disney with the girls". Honestly, she hadn't remembered him saying something like that for two years, or maybe more. Then, there was this ambiguous relationship with Samantha…

Vivian's bitter thoughts were interrupted brusquely by the sound of her phone ringing. She suppressed a sigh, her hopes for a quiet day of paperwork immediately shattered by the offending ringing, and answered with an annoyed voice.

"Johnson."

The growing seriousness of her expression as the conversation continued caught her co-workers' attention, as they began to listen to one-sided exchange intently.

"Yeah. So you're saying nobody has seen her or talked to her since yesterday evening. A friend of hers reported her missing this morning to the locals and seemed very worried. All right, we're taking it, thanks for your call," she recapitulated one last time before hanging the phone down. Then, turning her attention back to the team, she resumed with a shrug.

"Looks like we're gonna spend federal money on gas and sandwiches one more time, guys. A student from Yale has been reported missing this morning." Ignoring Samantha and Danny's loud sighs, she added, "The locals are sending you all the details as we speak, boss."

…/…

The weary cop offered a reassuring smile to the young man sitting in front of him.

"I just talked to the FBI in New York City, Mr Williams. They're going to send somebody very soon, I assure you."

Switching nervously on his chair, the young man took off his glasses, cleaned them with his t-shirt and put them back on his nose for the hundredth time that morning.

"You sure they'll find her?" he asked with a trembling voice.

The police officer sighed as he rubbed his face tiredly. Since the young man had stormed into the New Haven station this morning, they had not found any leads at all, which, he had to confess, was quite worrying. Still, not wanting to alarm the young man any further, he spoke the usual reassuring words.

"I'm sure they're going to do everything to find her, Mr Williams."

…/…

After a few minutes spent studying the file the New Haven police department had sent him, Jack walk out his office decidedly and joined his assembled team. Putting a new photo on the timeline board, he announced in a solemn voice.

"Okay guys. Erin Brooke. 27 years-old. Student at Yale University since 1996 finishing her doctorate. Just as Vivian told us earlier, no-one has seen her since yesterday evening. She was reported missing to the locals by a friend in the early hours of the morning."

"Another brilliant student under pressure who blows a fuse? Danny asked in playful tone.

Suppressing a grin, Jack responded, "Let's not jump on conclusion, Agent Taylor. Even if, from the first statements the locals gathered, she seemed to be quite the bookworm type." Turning his attention back to the team, he added, "Okay, so Samantha and I will go to the scene. I want you two to do the usual background work and contact her family in Syracuse. Phone records, bank account, you know the drill."

As Samantha and Jack collected the necessary belongings, both Danny and Vivian let out an annoyed sigh - but for differing reasons. For the former, the prospect of being stuck in front of a computer all day long was boring to no end. The latter, on the other hand, could not help but notice that Jack and Samantha were going out of town together one more time. This could not be a coincidence anymore.


	3. Chapter two

Don't own anything, couldn't do anything without Cynically Optimistic...

**__**

**_CHAPTER TWO_**

**_18 HOURS MISSING_**

The old and prestigious buildings of Yale University were scattered in a huge park covered with golden and red leaves. The two agents were strolling quietly along the stoned paths, trying to process Kenny Williams' statement. As soon as they had reached New Haven, they had paid a visit to the local cops, and found a very agitated young man, the very one who had reported Erin Brooke missing. In spite of their patience and willingness to help, all they had got from the skinny, long-haired student was that his friend was supposed to call him the night before about some important matter related to their film class. Both Samantha and Jack had noticed his nervous behaviour without being able to make him explain what scared him so much. The young woman sighed as she remembered the unproductive interview.

_"I understand your concern, Mr Williams," Jack tried to soothe his witness. "Still, please remember that the more details you give us, the easier our investigation will be."_

_"Agent Malone's right, you know" Samantha went on, sensing that the young man seemed to be more at ease talking to her. "If you know something, anything, no matter how small, just tell us. Even if you think it's not important or relevant, it might be very helpful." The young agent finished her sentence with her most sympathetic smile. _

_"I told you all I know!" Kenny Williams almost shrieked, losing control in front of them. "I'm sure this guy did something to her!"_

The sight of this young man wearing a black t-shirt with a bloody skull, unable to hide his distress and fear, had touched her greatly. "Another tender heart hiding in a hard shell," she thought. "Or maybe another gem waiting to be found in its dark cavern," her mind went on against her will, the memories of the discovery of the true Jack Malone suddenly threatening to overwhelm her. Samantha kicked herself mentally. That was not the moment to be thinking about Jack. A student was missing, and that was all she had to focus on. Fortunately, the appearance of the imposing and solemn Memorial Library helped her to banish any personal thoughts from her mind. It was impressive indeed. The monumental gate evoked a gothic church, an almost religious image contrasting with the typical campus atmosphere reigning around it. Some students were enjoying the lunch break, having a sandwich and chatting on the benches scattered around the library. Others were having a last cigarette before entering the sanctuary. Everybody seemed to be oblivious of the drama going on in their old and respectable university or trying to forget that there was a drama at all.

Showing their badges to the guard at the entrance, the two agents entered the library in search of the guy who seemed to be the last person to have seen Erin Brooke, attempting not to disturb the hushed atmosphere that only the sound of a pen being placed on a table, or that of a student turning a page of his book intermittently interrupted.

…/…

Rubbing his face, Danny turned to face his co-worker. "So anything interesting with the phone records? Because all I can say is that her financial ones are clean, and there's absolutely zero that stands out here."

"Wait…" Vivian mumbled, visibly absorbed by her task. "Well, nothing extraordinary. Calls to her parents in Syracuse. Calls to her professor, a guy named Richard Wong. Then, for the last two months, she has talked to this Williams guy a lot, apparently."

"Maybe she decided to get a life outside her books?" the young agent chimed with his usual smirk.

"Outside her videos, you mean…" Vivian corrected mischievously and handed him a piece of paper.

Danny frowned as he read it and commented, his smirk getting broader.

"Y'know, they should create a class in Quantico… Something like _Ten lessons on how to decipher SA Vivian Johnson's handwriting_… It would be very helpful." Then, ignoring the older agent's furious glare, he continued.

"Seriously, maybe all that work on _The Representation of Violence in Modern Media _for the last five years was a pressure she couldn't handle anymore. I guess I'm going bring that up with her parents as soon as they get here."

"You'll have to ask them about a mysterious stalker too," Vivian added solemnly, waving the phone records at him. "Someone called her from a pay phone ten times yesterday, twelve the day before, more than thirty times during the last week."

"What?" Danny exclaimed incredulously, beginning to regret his initial jokes about the perfect Ivy League student.

…/…

"_Bueno_, as I already told the police, she was the last one in the library, as usual," Mitch Alonso remembered with a smile which did not hide his anxiety. "I helped her to gather her things and walked her out of the building."

"I know you already talked about it with the local police, but could you tell us if you noticed something out of the ordinary in her behaviour last night?" Jack asked.

The tall security guard played with his moustache, taking his time to think before answering, shaking his head sadly.

"_No sé_… I mean, I don't know… She was clearly exhausted. I even told her to take some free time."

Jack raised an eyebrow at the last comment.

"Mr Alonso," he began tentatively. "From what you're saying, you seem to know Erin well, am I wrong?"

"_Bueno_…" The guard played with his moustache one more time. "I'm the one doing the last tour before the library closes its doors. She's always the last one to get out. We happen to talk from time to time. She's a nice girl y'know. I just told her that she should get a life outside her work. Studying that much, that's not good," he concluded with a shrug.

"So, in your opinion, her thesis seemed to get to her lately, Mr Alonso," Samantha recapitulated calmly. "You don't imagine another reason." Maybe Danny was right. Maybe Erin was another student who couldn't take the pressure.

"_Bueno_, I can't think of another reason," he answered sadly. "It happens from time to time in there, y'know."

"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr Alonso," Jack put his note-pad back in his pocket and shook the man's hand amicably.

…/…


	4. Chapter three

Well, this is chapter three... Hope you'll like it!

A big thanks for your kind reviews, everyone!

Disclaimer : I don't own anything, and I'm doing free publicity for Amenabar's great movie : go and watch it!

__

_**CHAPTER THREE**_

A smiling Erin was looking at the office with a joyful and confident stare, as a constant and painful reminder of the reason why they got up and went to work everyday. At first, she had been just a face on a picture, a name and a case number. Four hours later, she was a brilliant student finishing her thesis, a nice young woman everybody seemed to be fond of, a friend whose disappearance worried a young man to no end in Connecticut, an attentive daughter who called her parents and brother in Syracuse three times a week, a prudent person who spent her money prudently and taught classes to high school students in her free time. Little by little, more flesh was added to the lifeless picture. Little by little, the complete stranger was becoming a living, breathing person, a lost friend, almost. Still, to Danny, it was not enough. It would be enough only when the abstract portrait became a young woman found alive and well.

Lost in his thoughts, he failed to hear Vivian approaching with a map of New Haven.

"Well. I guess I learnt a few things this morning," she announced with an ironic tone contrasting with her serious expression.

A bit startled by the sudden interruption of his mental ramblings, Danny only muttered,

"About what?"

The older agent noticed her friend's discomfort but went on nonetheless.

"First, never disturb a clerk during his lunch break. It seems to turn them into stubborn and uncooperative employees," she began playfully, trying to lighten her colleague's mood, in vain.

"Then," she explained while unfolding the map, "it appears that our stalker is a very intelligent person."

Danny understood what she meant when he discovered the result of her last hour of work. The emplacement of each payphone used to call Erin during the last week was marked with a red cross. Thirty in total. All across the city.

Shrugging in defeat, he mumbled,

"Or we're wrong with the stalker thing…"

"Or this can be anybody and we haven't progressed at all," Vivian concluded, silently praying that Jack and Samantha's investigation would be more productive.

…/…

_**22 HOURS MISSING**_

Dreamily watching the improvised rugby game going on in the park, the two agents were finishing their cigarettes. The last interviews had been at best unproductive. Erin's roommate, a Mexican student, had declared that the young woman was a bookworm, a friendly girl who should stop spending her days watching horrible things. At worst, they had been utterly confusing. A student in her class had told them that Erin was seemingly dating Kenny Williams, the biggest nerd on campus, a guy fascinated by gory movies. She had concluded the interview by confiding in them that this Williams person really scared her. Even more confusingly, another student had declared that he had seen a frantic Kenny Williams trying to force a door in the cinema club storage room. "I'm sure he was high," the young man had commented in a disparaging tone.

Sighing, Samantha threw the remnants of her cigarette to the ground. Trying to lighten her companion's mood, she commented teasingly,

"So much with our bet, today…"

"Mmmh," was the only answer she got.

"Guess we still have some progress to make on that point, haven't we?" she went on, determined to harass him until she earned a smile.

"Yep."

It was better than nothing but she wasn't quite satisfied. Sam was looking for a smart remark when she noticed that her lover was in fact completely absorbed by the game. Nothing on his face betrayed his passion but his eyes were shining like a little kid's on Christmas day. It was possibly what she loved most about their unusual relationship, those details he only revealed to her, like the fact Maria made him stop playing rugby when they got married because it was too violent for her taste, in the process depriving him of the one thing that helped him to clear the frustration due to his job and be able to be with his family without thinking about the other grieving families all the time.

"Reliving old memories, are we?" she asked, her hand finding its way to his forearm.

A smile, a genuine one, at last.

"Yeah… The 1988-1989 season. A try, two drop-goals, this damn full back confounding me with a doormat during a ruck, my knee authorizing me to play eighty minutes in a row, it had been a good game," he recalled aloud.

"You won?" she enquired.

"Unbelievable but true, yes, we did, and two months later we won the competi…"

He did not finish his sentence, his attention caught by a potential decisive action which aborted unfortunately.

"Can't believe he forgot the full back on his left…" he mumbled, shaking his head incredulously, not aware of Samantha's ironic stare. Her sarcastic comment called him back to real life nonetheless.

"Go and play with them, champion…"

"If only I could," he whispered turning back to face her, a tender and nostalgic smile on his face. Then, shaking his head one more time as if trying to remember to reason behind their presence here, he continued in a serious tone,

"What do you think? I wanna go to this storage room and see if there's anything interesting there."

Noticing Samantha's curiosity, he elaborated. "Let's say that, from what we saw back in the police station, I don't buy the picture these students all painted of Kenny Williams."

"Me neither," she replied, relieved that Jack shared her doubts about the description of a dangerous, disturbed Kenny Williams. Strange, yes, distressed, obviously, but dangerous, no, almost definitely not.

…/…

"Something on your mind, Danny?" Vivian enquired as she hung up the phone. While she was talking to Erin's professor, she had noticed that the young agent seemed absorbed in his contemplation of the student's picture.

"Well, I was just wondering," he answered with a shrug. "Why do you think a girl like her chose to work on a topic such as _The representation of violence in modern media_. She could have chosen anything, couldn't she?"

"I don't know Danny…" Viv replied soothingly. She had wondered the same thing. Why such a morbid interest? Was it something related to her disappearance? Was that just coincidental? She had just requested Richard Wong send her some extracts from Erin's thesis, hoping that it would help them a little. Remembering her conversation with the professor, she continued. "Maybe it's just a desire to understand what's happening down here. Have you ever wondered why people like these serial-killer movies so much? Personally, I can't stand them, our daily reality is largely sufficient. Haven't you ever wanted to shut off the TV because of these complacent reports?"

"More than once, Viv. More than once," her colleague sighed, beginning to understand her point.

He looked up at the picture on the board with renewed attention. "What were you thinking, Erin?" he silently asked as he imagined her watching, studying those horrible images, trying to get past the primal revulsion to analyse the representation of violence and what it told about the people who had made the images, about the ones who watched them on screen. For a second, he had the impression he understood her, that he knew her. Vivian's serious tone pulled him back to reality.

"Danny! I'd like you to contact Jack in New Haven while I do some research. Richard Wong just called, saying he remembered something. He's not sure if it's relevant or not, but it seems that a certain event disturbed Erin a great deal."

"What do you mean?" he enquired, attempting to suppress the wave of concern building inside him.

"Two months ago, an old professor was found dead in the projection room of the cinema club. They say it was a heart-attack," she explained simply before picking her phone up.

…/…

The storage room of the cinema club was a real Ali Baba's cavern for movie geeks. A handful of lamps spread their cold light in the spacious room filled with metallic shelves full of videotapes. As they walked to the door as directed by the student, several titles caught Samantha's attention. There was everything and nothing. The first shelves, the cleaner ones, held impressive titles from across the world: Eisenstein, Bergman, _Nouvelle Vague_, Kurosawa, Elia Kazan and other people she never heard of... She repressed a shrug when Jack mockingly showed her the _Maltese Falcon_ tape. As their progression went on, esteemed movies were replaced by less prestigious ones. The back of the room was a treat for the eyes. Incredible titles as _Bionic Ninjas_, _Kickboxer from hell_ or _Thunder Ninjas Kids: The Hunt for the Devil Boxer_ sat proudly on dusty shelves. Pointing at the last one, she asked,

"This could be an interesting option one evening, don't you think?"

Jack stopped his progression to read the offending title and almost stepped back in mock horror.

"Just try and I know somebody who's going to spend her next month doing paperwork," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Then, showing a door to his companion, he went on more seriously,

"Okay, fun's over, I guess this is the door."

…/…

Danny hung up his phone angrily.

"I can't reach Jack or Samantha," he explained to a surprised Vivian. "Anything new on the teacher?"

His co-worker checked one last thing on her computer then turned back to face him.

"Angus McCauley. 60 years-old, he was supposed to retire at the end of the year. Seems like his heart has caused him trouble for years. Found dead in the projection room. Some people saw him come in with a videotape. When they noticed he hadn't come back out four hours later, they checked in and found him dead. The videotape he had come in with was never found."

"What the hell?" was all that Danny could utter. He did not like this case. He did not like it at all.

…/…

"Here it is," Jack whispered as he unlocked the door. Samantha was ready behind him, covering him, her gun drawn, her flashlight pointing at the gate. "Ready?" he asked as he prudently opened the door.

A slight nod was all he needed.

It seemed they had unwittingly discovered a dark and dusty corridor, totally incongruous in a university such as Yale. There was no light so they entered with only the beam from their flashlights to guide them, their eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of illumination. Step by step, they silently progressed along the corridor until a door appeared on the left. It was locked. Nobody seemed to have opened it for years. None of the keys the janitor had given to Jack worked. Shaking his head, he motioned to Samantha to go on. Several steps. Another door, on the right side this time. Jack tried to open it with the same result as the first. The two agents began to wonder if the one that had been "high" was the student and not Kenny.

"There's nothing," Samantha whispered. She didn't know why, but she didn't like this place at all. Maybe it was the dusty walls and broken ground. Maybe it was the stuffy atmosphere. Maybe it was the relentless sound of water dripping to the floor somewhere in front of them. The fact was that there was something she didn't like here. Unfortunately, when Jack showed her another door a few meters away, she understood that their exploration was not yet finished.

This door was different. Even if none of the keys worked, it appeared that the lock had recently been changed. Jack was working on forcing the door when they heard footsteps approaching. Instantly, Samantha pointed her flashlight at the silhouette and shouted at the top of her lungs, somewhere relieved to finally disturb the dark silence of the corridor.

"Freeze! FBI!"

However, the words provoked the opposite reaction. The silhouette turned back and began to run towards the exit, quickly followed by the young agent and her companion a few steps behind. She had almost reached the form when it slowed down and gave a vicious blow to her throat, sending her down on the ground, slowing Jack's running. Storming in the storage room, the powerless agent had to admit that the guy had escaped. He checked the room and its surroundings one last time before he decided to walk back to check on Samantha, trying to ignore the pain that suddenly struck his bad knee, and, above all, trying to ignore the ridiculous silent promise to make the guy pay for what he had done to _her_. He found the young woman sitting in the corridor, her back against the wall. She was still catching her breath.

"Bastard," she muttered angrily.

"You all right, sweetheart?" Jack asked, not even bothering to hide his worry and tenderness.

"Yeah… I just need… to catch… my breath," she tried to reassure him with a smile and a light caress on his cheek. She continued, her breathing becoming more regular. "That wasn't Kenny Williams, was it?"

"No, short hair, broad shoulders, this wasn't him at all…" he replied with a worried voice. "A lock changed recently, a guy who isn't afraid of assaulting a federal officer. I don't like that at all."

…/…


	5. Chapter four

Here's chapter four... Hope you'll enjoy it!

Then, I'd like to thank everybody for their so nice review, and especially C.O. who's a fantastic beta reader!

Disclaimer : I don't own anything...

CHAPTER FOUR

Memories replayed in his head. Good ones. Like the first time Erin and he had stayed up all night, endlessly commenting on the movie she had brought to his place along with japanese take-out. "Next time, if we watch _Goodfellas_, you gonna bring spaghetti or what?" he had asked mischievously. "Well, why not associate our cinematographic and culinary discoveries?" she had answered, winking at him. And they had burst out of laughing. Then they had cried, he trying to hide his tears ashamedly, she not bothering to hide her emotion while following this cop's futile last fight to give his dying wife the vacation she had always dreamed of. His last gift to her on the altar of his boundless love. This first movie had been the beginning of a sacred ritual they shared. On Wednesdays, whatever happened, she would show up at his place, with a new movie and food she had chosen accordingly. They ate then watched the movie then talked, talked... for hours. During this time, they were good friends with a common passion. During this time, they were... happy. However, as hard as he fought, he was unable to forget the bad memories that had darkened their innocent daily routine. Mr. McCauley's death, the phone calls, the mad voice, the sick smile, the videotape... Everything had gone crazy since the poor guy's death. Erin had sworn she would find out what had really happened, and he, for his part, had decided to follow her, to help her until she reached her goal. He wasn't a hero. He had neither the courage nor the strength to be one. Still, he was there, hiding behind a bush in a garden, intently watching the front gate. Waiting. The cops were too slow, he had to do this.

_**24 HOURS MISSING**_

Calling this place an apartment would have been too much of a compliment. Books, magazines and clothes were scattered all over the floor, dirty plates and glasses formed an unstable mountain in the sink. The smell that filled the room indicated that it had not been aired properly for months. Samantha raised a suspicious eyebrow as she deciphered the titles of the DVDs on the shelves, _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_, _House of a Thousand Corpses_, _Shaun of the Dead_… She began to understand Kenny's reputation among the students. Discovering the poster of a bleeding man crying, a gun pointed at his head adorning a wall of the bedroom made her start to question the nature of the relationship between the two students. Of course, this kind of crap was the very topic of Erin's studies. However, from what they saw in the place she shared with the Mexican student, the young woman seemed to have built a solid wall between her work and her real life. On the contrary, Kenny appeared to live constantly in the clouds of his morbid passion. Maybe getting to know the young man helped her to understand people who watched this kind of things better. Maybe she had lost her objectivity little by little and become more and more like him before going nuts. Maybe they were just friends. Very different people could be closer than anyone else; she had learnt that the last few months.

Attempting once more to banish the distracting thought, she called to her companion who had momentarily returned from interviewing a neighbour.

"Anything new?"

"Nope," he shook his head in disbelief. "No-one's seen him or heard of him since this morning."

"And he's not answering his cell phone," she continued in a serious tone. As if reading his mind, she thought aloud, "Or Kenny isn't the worried friend he pretended to be in the police station…"

"Or the guy tried something stupid and is in trouble now." Jack finished her sentence. "In any case, I called Danny and Vivian to update them on our latest discovery. As you can guess, they were less than happy to learn that another person was missing," he added with a sad shrug.

"I also guess the president of this esteemed institution is going to be less than pleased when we inform him of this latest development," she commented sarcastically.

Jack failed to respond to her attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes lost in contemplation of the dirty apartment as he pictured the two students talking on the couch.

_Erin was motioning vehemently at her incredulous friend, as if trying to prove a point. Then, seeing that simple words would never convince him, she suddenly got up to put the DVD she brought in the player and studied his reaction. The images did not touch him at first, he was used to these, he watched this kind of thing all day long; however, after a few minutes, his face became paler and paler and he prayed for her to stop the player. Then, glad that he was beginning to understand her point, she sat back on the couch and resumed her explanations. _

Another scene chased the first one.

_A distressed Erin was crying on the couch, shaking violently. A pale Kenny seemed at a loss, not knowing what to do to comfort her._

A last one concluded his reverie.

_Kenny was sitting on his couch, not daring to move a muscle, looking intently at his phone as if his stare had the power to make it ring. _

"Jack… Jack!" Samantha's anxious voice along with the feeling of her hand on his forearm called him back to reality.

The older agent rubbed his face tiredly.

"Sorry Sam, I was just…thinking," he offered as an excuse.

"Wanna share?"

"It's just… Two movie geeks missing, a mysterious room in the cinema club basement, a teacher found dead in the projection room, and, to conclude, the asshole who attacked you, the movie camera we found in the hidden room… I believe that it is too much to be coincidental. Am I wrong?" he explained further.

"You want to stay here and pay another visit to the place first thing in the morning, don't you?" she verbalized his thoughts.

…/…

The student pressed his bat tighter against him, trying to control his increasingly shaking hands as a car came to a halt in front of the house.

"Finally."

A young man with broad shoulders and short chestnut hair got out of the car and walked quietly toward the house. He was whistling with a satisfied smile.

"He's alone. Where is _she_?"

The guy picked up the morning paper from his lawn and pushed open his front door.

"Calm down. Wait a bit longer."

When the door closed again, the student rose and walked purposefully up to the ordinary looking white suburban house.

_**25 HOURS MISSING**_

_**8 HOURS MISSING (?)**_

"So, what do you think?" Danny enquired, more and more unable to hide his frustration. "First, Erin's missing then her friend disappears too. I have to admit I'm at a loss."

"I don't know," Vivian simply answered as she studied the list of the people who had recently purchased the same model cam-corder that Jack and Samantha had found on campus. Finally, she turned to her co-worker, revealing her tired eyes. "Here we go. The camera they found is a recent digital model released in June 2001. Five guys in New Haven have bought one since the summer," she explained as she handed him a piece of paper on which he read,

_Frank Dougherty, 45 years-old, doctor._

_Susan Anderson, 37 years-old, music teacher._

_Mike Griffith, 17 years-old, high-school student._

_Alex Miller, 24 years-old, student._

_Jeremy Wallace, 23 years-old, student, president of the cinema-club of Yale University._

"I'm calling Jack," he declared, glad to have found something to feed his hopes once more.

…/…

"I assure you we're doing everything that's possible, Mr Kendall," Jack repeated for the fourth time, trying to soothe the incensed president of the University. As Samantha had predicted, the man did not exactly rejoice at their news and was now threatening to call his friends in Washington.

"I understand perfectly, Mr Kendall. I'll call you as soon as we find anything new. Have a good night," he concluded in an attempt to escape from the man's ramblings then shut down his cell-phone.

"Tough guy, isn't he?" she commented with a sympathetic smile which grew broader at the feeling of his hand on the small of her back.

"Next time, you're calling him," he replied as his arm encircled her waist for a second before asking, his voice suddenly concerned. "You're sure you're all right?"

"For the hundredth time, yes, I am," she answered in a whisper, more moved by his concern than she wanted to be. Usually, this kind of attention quickly got on her nerves. Now, she was looking forward to the moment when she could find a refuge in his arms and silently admit that, yes, she had been scared this afternoon.

…/…

The young agent was about to call his partners in New Haven when his desk phone rang. Surprised, he checked his watch before answering, hoping that Jack was calling him to report something new.

"Taylor?"

Noticing Danny's sudden worried expression, Vivian made a silent prayer. "Please, not the cops," she kept on repeating as a mantra.

"Yes, let him come up," he commanded more abruptly than usual.

Then, sensing Vivian's interrogating stare, he explained as he tried to stop the shaking of his hands. "It's Erin's brother. His parents are on holidays in Europe and he was fighting a fire when I called. As soon as he noticed the message I left, he took the first plane from Syracuse. He sounds devastated. He says he's got something we have to see."

…/…


	6. Chapter five

Hello everybody! After a week at the beach, I'm back...

First of all, a big thanks to all the people who read this and left so nice reviews. Then another big one to my fantastic beta reader, Cynically Optimistic!

So here's chapter five... Warning, this one is really angsty and a bit violent. Anyway, I hope you'll like it!

Disclaimer : I don't own anything but a brand new title of history and geography teacher!

_**CHAPTER FIVE**_

**36 HOURS MISSING**

**19 HOURS MISSING (?)**

They had driven all night, taking only two hours to stop at Samantha's place to take a shower and have a too short nap. They had not spoken since Vivian's call the evening before. As much as he tried, Jack could not stop hearing her trembling voice.

"Jack, you and Samantha have to get back here immediately," she had said, simply.

When he had asked her what was going on, she had answered after a long silence.

"I've never seen anything like this. Never." Another silence had passed, and Jack was sure he had heard a sob. "I'm going home for the night and I'm taking Danny with me. We'll see you tomorrow."

Then she had hung up.

The couple walked past the security guard, took the first elevator and crossed the deserted office toward the bullpen without a word. Both dreaded what they were going to see. Neither Jack nor Samantha had ever heard Vivian in that state of panic. As a habit, the older agent opened the door for his lover, patting her back briefly. What they discovered disturbed them more than Vivian's call. Danny was sitting at his desk, his stare lost into space. From time to time, a trembling hand ruffled his already messy hair. His co-worker was on the phone, shouting angrily.

"I know it's early, Mr. Wong! But you have to tell me everything you know about this, and you have to tell me now! Why didn't you tell me earlier that Angus McCauley was the main animator of the cinema-club? Why didn't you remember that Erin and Kenny had followed his classes since their first year there? And, above all, why didn't you remember that Erin told you that Angus McCauley sounded very distressed when she last spoke to him on the phone a few _hours_ before his death?"

There was a pause. The professor was seemingly struggling to justify his lack of memory.

"No, Mr. Wong. _I_ decide what's relevant or not. Not _you_! Because of your stupidity, we've barely progressed at all in this investigation, and, now, Kenny Williams is missing too!" she finished her furious diatribe before throwing her cell phone out of frustration. "Damn it!"

She was so caught up in her anger that she failed to notice Jack slowly approaching her. Startled by the hand on her shoulder, she brusquely turned back, revealing her devastated face.

"Hey," her boss tried soothingly. "Calm down, Viv… What's going on here?"

"It's you, thank God," she whispered, a profound feeling of powerlessness replacing her burst of fury. Then, she pointed at the videotape on her desk, not even daring to look at it, without uttering a word. Both Jack and Samantha regarded it intently. It was a regular, cheap videotape anyone could find at the nearest store. There was nothing on it except for a plain white label with a bold "3" written on it in thick red pen. Jack frowned. So, this was the reason for his co-worker's distressed call the evening before. Still, from Vivian and Danny's confused states of mind this morning, the content of it was certainly far less common. It was only when Jack took the offending object and started to walk to his office with Samantha by his side that she found her voice again.

"Erin's brother brought it yesterday in the evening. He says she had sent it to him a few days ago. Since his birthday is next Thursday, he didn't open it before. But, when he got Danny's message, he decided to check it out."

…/…

Dark and dusty corridors. A form was walking slowly and silently, carrying an unconscious body on his shoulder. Its long hair were hanging down grimly, the head slightly moving along with the man's steady steps.

The man stopped his ghostly progression to readjust the charge on his shoulder, muttering a whispered "idiot" under his breath, before resuming his journey.

…/…

Jack joined his colleague on the couch to face the television in his office. However, before hitting the play button, he whispered,

"You know, whatever's on this tape, I can watch it alone. Why don't you go and help the others?"

"No, it's okay, let's go," she answered decidedly. On the one hand, of course she was scared to discover what had troubled her friends so greatly. On the other hand, the agent side of her wanted to know, wanted to understand.

"Okay…"

He hit the play button, his whole body tensed as if he was preparing himself to endure a devastating tackle.

At first, there was nothing on screen but a white, immaculate wall. Then muffled voices resounded. A silhouette walked past the movie camera and installed a chair in front of it. As soon as she saw it, Samantha took her lover's hand feverishly. These were the same broad shoulders. This was the same man as the day before, she was sure. His face was covered with a mask, and he was wearing gloves. Still, she recognized him. The muffled sobs in the background made her regret the events of the day before even more. She made a silent prayer, hoping that this particular failure was not the bad omen she imagined. The man walked out the range of the camera and suddenly the sobs became panicked shrieks. Sounds of struggled could be heard in the background, but the man was the strongest and he reappeared in front of the camera, dragging a blond-haired woman behind him, and forcing her down onto the chair, immobilized her with handcuffs. Samantha squeezed Jack's hand tighter, fighting the urge to run out of the office. His task accomplished, the man disappeared one more time, visibly searching for something at the other side of the garage. Sinister metallic noises resounded as well as the sound of a whistled tune. The bitter taste of nausea invaded her throat. The man was whistling just as if he was repairing his motorbike or doing his laundry. When she saw him reappear with a butcher knife in hand, Samantha closed her eyes. However, she could not prevent the desperate shrieks and the revolting whistling from penetrating her entire being. Then, after what seemed hours, the weaker and weaker cried stopped for good, and a heavy silence invaded the office.

Jack stayed on the couch, unable to move a single limb, at first unaware that Samantha had rushed out of his office, her hands clenched over her mouth. His hands and legs were shaking uncontrollably. Cold sweat covered his face and shivering back. Of course, there was no concrete evidence. However, deep inside, he knew. He knew that it was the tape Angus McCauley had brought into the projection room. These were the last images that he had seen before his heart betrayed him. After a few minutes of complete immobility, he decided to give a circular glance around him and noticed that his companion had escaped from the office as if the air in there had suddenly turned noxious. Slowly, the dull pain in his hand registered in his mind, and he watched it with a lost gaze, the red traces that her nails had left in his palm reminding him the terror that had submerged her. In the end, the desire to go and comfort her won over his temporary paralysis and he walked out of his office and to the balcony, the very place where she usually sought refuge when upset by a case, with heavy steps.

…/…

The man closed the door with a degree of caution, and put the police seals back in place, a satisfied smile forming on his lips. Nobody would think to search here. He sighed, shaking his head in amused disbelief. He had been stupid to fear something bad could happen to him the morning before. The cops were powerless. He was too smart. He was invincible.

The little bitch had been blind not to realize she couldn't do anything against him. A wave of perverse pleasure washed over him as he remembered her panicked expression.

Nobody could stop him. He was invincible.

…/…

First, Danny had seen Samantha rushing out of Jack's office in direction of the balcony, hands covering her mouth, her eyes swollen with tears. Then a few minutes later, his boss walked out too. His steps were unsteady, as if he was drunk. Nothing on his face betrayed his inner feelings but the fright and horror his eyes reflected revealed more about his current turmoil than any words. As he had dreaded, witnessing his co-workers' reactions to the contents of the tape made the haunting images he had fought to forget all night reappear, almost as painfully vivid as if he was watching the offending film for a second time. Shaking his head as if this single gesture could chase away the memories, the young man turned his attention back to the screen in front of him, determined to do all he could to find Erin before something as terrible happened to her. Still, despite all his renewed energy and determination, he found it harder and harder to ignore the little voice that was whispering 'it's too late' in his subconscious over and over.

While she was checking the locations of the phone calls made by the stalker, trying to find some logic in this seemingly random pattern that would help them to understand everything, Vivian noticed Jack's unsure walk as he crossed the bullpen hurriedly, as if reaching the balcony and the fresh air he knew he would find there would save his life. She momentarily left her task aside to study her boss and friend's behaviour. Of course she recognized the horror in his eyes. Her face had worn the same expression the previous night when she had run to her desk, frantically reaching for the pictures waiting there, hoping that Marcus and Reggie's smiles would offer the safe haven she was looking for. Vivian sighed sympathetically. She had worked with him for years and she knew deep inside that, just like the countless times they had found a body instead of a living person, something in him had just been broken, submerged this time by the cruelty some people were capable of. However, there was something in the urgency of his steps that made her frown in suspicion. Certainly, the balcony was a safe place to clear your mind, but this was also the destination that Samantha had run to just a few minutes before. Hoping that Danny was not drawing the same conclusions as she was, Vivian looked up urgently then let out a relieved sigh, glad that the younger agent was too absorbed by his computer screen to notice anything. It was better this way.

…/…

Jack had crossed the bullpen, totally unaware of his surroundings; Samantha's strangled sobs painfully ringing in his ears. Carefully, he pushed the door open and walked out soundlessly. As much as the rush of fresh autumnal air, in spite of the notorious stench of pollution, was a welcomed relief, the sight in front of him stabbed him in the heart.

Absently watching the traffic downstairs, Samantha was struggling to control the shaking of her hands and her entire body, gripping the edge of the balcony as hard as she could. Her face was horribly pale and contrasted painfully with her reddened eyes. All of a sudden, Jack forgot where he was and why he was there. All that mattered to him was comforting the trembling form in front of him, all he wanted to do was give back to her a little of the warm presence she had been providing him since the night back in August when she had held him in her arms, their bare bodies melting together for hours. That night, she had soothed his constant pain and guilt, chased his inner demons, and whispered that it was not his fault if Jenny Parker had decided she could not live anymore. This night, for the first time in years, he had found peace, he had rested and no nightmare had come to disturb his sleep.

Silently, he approached, stopping beside her and resting his forearms against the edge so that their shoulders brushed lightly. He made no other movement, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, to accept the comfort he was offering. Since the day she first walked into his office, Jack had learnt one thing. Samantha Spade hated it when people discovered her softer side; she did not want anyone's help or comfort unless she requested it. A few minutes passed by before she scooted closer to him, an implicit way to show that she accepted his offering. A timid smile forming on his lips, he wrapped an arm around her waist while she rested her head on his shoulder, each one finding warmth and strength in the other's presence. Unaware of Viv's presence behind the glass, they stood there for several long minutes before silently agreeing that it was high time for them to drive back to New Haven and find whatever they could find.

…/…


	7. Chapter six

Hello everybody! Here's chapter 6... Hope you'll like it.

One more time, a big thanks to your kind reviews and Cynically Optimistic's help and comments!

Disclaimer : I don't own anything.

__

_**CHAPTER SIX**_

_**40 HOURS MISSING**_

_**23 HOURS MISSING (?)**_

Samantha repressed a shudder as they walked towards the cinema club building whose modern architecture contrasted deeply with the ancient and classical main edifices of the university. The day before, Jack and she had joked pleasantly about the mad architect who had thought that this bunker made of concrete and glass would suit such an environment. 'An authentic wart on the nose', were the words Jack had used to describe it, which had almost made her spit out the instant coffee she had been sipping carefully as they strolled lazily in direction of the cinema club.

However, now, the lazy steps of the day before were replaced by an anxious and hurried walk. The two agents crossed the park without paying any attention to the students lounging on the grass, enjoying the autumnal sun, playing an improvised ballgame in the park or running along the stoned paths to attend to a class. The beauty and serenity of the ancient edifices and the tasteless modern buildings were not the object of jokes or impressed comments anymore. That was before the sinister encounter in the corridor. That was before the discovering of the tape. All that mattered to them now was discovering what was going on here. This was the only focus of their minds, an obsession almost which had become a mental shield against the horror they had witnessed in the morning. Instinctively, Samantha walked closer to her companion so that their shoulders were slightly brushing, seeking comfort and strength in his warm presence. When he opened the door for her, his hand on her back gently accompanying her, the young woman could not help but think that the sharp contrast between this cinema club and the rest of the university was not only architectural, as they had innocently thought the day before, but symbolic as well. A horrible place where horrible events happened, this was the way she was beginning to imagine the building.

Aware of Samantha's unspoken apprehension as they entered the main hall of the building, Jack let his hand linger on her back longer than necessary. Given the present circumstances, he was far beyond caring about what strangers thought of an older FBI agent patting his young and pretty co-worker's back. He didn't give a damn, in fact. All he wanted was to protect her from the turmoil that was harassing her. Still, as much as this feeling was sweetly overwhelming, deep inside, he knew that they had reached the point of no return. Whatever the outcome of the case would be, they would not be able to pretend their relationship was just an affair anymore. They needed each other too much to be just an affair; and that was frightening. It was frightening because, deep inside, he was beginning to realize that he was being torn apart between two opposite and irreconcilable ends, that he would not be able to wear this two-faced mask of a lover and a father forever. One day he would have to choose a face and leave the other one aside. Nonetheless, for the moment, he didn't want to make the choice yet. He needed his girls and he needed _her_, it was as simple as that; and as long as he could contain the guilt, he selfishly wanted to keep both sides.

…/…

Both Vivian and Danny were standing in the corridor of the interrogation rooms, silently studying the young men they had summoned earlier in the morning. Jack had decided that making the two owners of this particular model of cam-corder come all the way to the FBI offices in the city could help to identify a potential suspect. The two agents agreed, hoping that, if the creator of the videotape was one of them, he would betray himself more easily in the cold and official environment of the FBI interrogation rooms than in the familiar setting of the university.

For the moment, the young men were sitting in separate rooms, waiting for the agents. The first one, Jeremy Wallace, had been the president of the cinema-club for three years and was also a member of the university's football team. A vicious wound on his eyebrow seemed to be a fresh memory of the last game he had played. Tall, muscular, the guy shifted regularly on his chair, maybe out of nervousness, maybe because his sore muscles didn't authorize him to stay motionless for too long.

The second one, Alex Miller, was also a member of the cinema-club. He was the one who had offered to drive his friend to New York City. His face betrayed nothing but genuine concern. Danny studied him a few minutes longer. The record he was holding told him that the guy had been at the university for four years and studied philosophy. The cinema-club was just a hobby for him, contrary to Jeremy Wallace who was an aspirant movie director. Neither of them had a police record. Both seemed to be model citizens. Finally deciding to make a move, the younger agent whispered,

"What do you think? What don't you take _mister top-model_ while I deal with _mister jock_?"

Somewhat relieved to see a glimpse of the old Danny again, Vivian nodded in acceptance, not without commenting mischievously,

"And thank you for your observations, Agent Taylor."

…/…

"Wait a minute... What did you just say?" Samantha asked incredulously, not sure she had understood correctly. _This _was a complication they simply didn't need. A complication they didn't need especially after the horrible discovery of the videotape, especially when they thought they had found a lead. If what the curious young student in front of her had just told her was right, the already difficult and frustrating investigation would become almost impossible.

"Well, as I just said, we can't show you this cam-corder now since it was stolen a few weeks ago. And, because of its price, we haven't been able to replace it yet," the student answered as calmly as she could. Clearly, as far as the treasury was concerned, this particular subject was a sore spot for the cinema-club. Then, obviously relaying the same response she had given repeatedly since the incident, she continued. "Of course we called the police, did some research ourselves and hoped that the guy's guilty conscience would make him realize what he or she did... But no such luck." She paused, as if waiting for Samantha to make a sympathetic comment about how dishonest some people could be. Seeing that the young agent wasn't willing to comment on anything, she added, shaking her head with disapproval. "You can imagine Jeremy's anger when he discovered that the cam-corder had been stolen... He threw a chair through this window, you see... As if the lost of the cam-corder wasn't enough..."

Samantha bit her lips out of frustration. She wasn't here to listen to some student's bitter rambling about the loss of five thousand dollars or the president's lack of self-control. Trying to appear as sympathetic as she could, the young woman gave the student her softest smile and attempted to redirect the conversation in the way she wanted.

"I understand your frustration perfectly, Ms Griffith. But I have some more specific questions I need to ask you. As I'm sure you're aware, the simplest detail can be crucial in that kind of investigation."

The rambling student looked up at her sheepishly, as if ashamed of having forgotten the point of the interview. Now Samantha had her whole attention once again.

"So, you told me that the cam-corder had disappeared probably during the second week of August, is that right?" the agent repeated calmly.

"Yes, that's correct," was the simple answer she received.

"Who was the last member of the club who borrowed it?"

The student looked through her files for a second before replying.

"Um… that was Janice Logan. She needed it for the short-movie she was making during the summer vacation."

"Did Alex Miller or Jeremy ever borrow it?" was the next question.

"Mmmh, let me check..." The student turned a page, frowning. "Well, Miller never borrowed it, which isn't surprising since he bought one a few days after the club bought the cam-corder. Jeremy used it the first week _to explore the possibilities of the machine_, and I'm quoting his own words. Then, since he planned to work on a scenario during the vacations then start filming at the end of August, he didn't need it."

Samantha couldn't help but smile at the girl's precision.

"Now, I can understand his anger..." she commented gently. Then, using her professional tone one more time, she asked her last question.

"Do you know if Erin Brooke happened to have contact with Jeremy or Alex?"

"Well, as far as I know, Jeremy and Erin don't speak much. I mean, Jeremy plans to be a movie director, to do something with his hands while Erin is pretty much someone who analyses everything in its merest details. In a nutshell, they have a very different vision of film. They're not here for the same reasons. They just sort of know each other, I think. Then, with Alex..." she stopped for a second, not sure if this piece of information was relevant or not. Samantha noticed her hesitation and smiled encouragingly.

"Alex?"

"Well, maybe it's just a rumour but I heard that she and Alex were dating."

Samantha raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I thought she was dating Kenny Williams..."

"That's what I thought, too. But a guy from the club told me he had seen Alex and Erin talking in whispers, hidden in the men's bathroom but I didn't believe him. The guy is real gossip, you know?" she answered with a shrug. Obviously, the young woman didn't buy this _"Alex and Erin together"_ story at all.

Samantha decided to dig further. Maybe there was a lead down here, after all.

"Why didn't you believe it?"

"First, she's always with Kenny. Then, Alex isn't her type, I'm sure. She's too smart to fall for that kind of guy," she replied. When she noticed that the agent in front of her waited for an explanation, she continued. "Smart, handsome but shallow, spoiled rich kid, you know what I mean?"

Samantha finished writing down this last piece of information, closed her note-pad firmly and looked up at the student.

"Yeah..."

"So, what's your impression of Alex Miller?"

Danny enquired as he joined his co-worker in the bullpen. As far as he was concerned, the interview of Jeremy Wallace didn't get him anywhere and he had the growing feeling that he had lost vital minutes interrogating the guy. In spite of his obvious and understandable discomfort at the idea of being inside an FBI interrogation room, the student seemed to be perfectly clean, which a quick call to Samantha in New Haven had confirmed. In a nutshell, the guy had bought a cam-corder for the cinema club with his own credit card and didn't know anything more than the student his friend had just interrogated. Moreover, more important even, the horrified expression that had covered his face when Danny had brought up the content of a particular videotape and its possible ramifications for the cinema-club had definitely convinced the young agent that Jeremy Wallace wasn't their suspect.

"Besides that I don't like him?" Vivian replied without stopping reading the report on her computer. "Nothing much… He doesn't know anything, didn't hear anything, kindly brought his own cam-corder for our attention, didn't mind coming all the way to New York City, sincerely hopes that we'll find Erin soon. In a nutshell, the perfect citizen…"

"But you don't like him," Danny repeated curiously, arching an eyebrow, as he leant back in his chair. Vivian scarcely uttered that kind of subjective comment. He would, often, as well as Samantha and Jack, but Vivian hardly ever. She was the logical mind of the crew, their touch stone when they began to follow their instincts too blindly. From this standpoint, what she had just said was kind of out of character. Maybe was it a sign that she was also cracking under the pressure? Or was it anything else? Compelled to find out, the young agent pushed further.

"What makes you say that, Viv'?"

A deep sigh escaped his friend's lips as she turned back to face him, her current work forgotten.

"I just got the impression that this guy is _too good to be true_. He didn't flinch once during the whole interview, happily answered every question without hesitating. Then, when Jack called me to fill me in with the results of their investigation in New Haven, and I learnt a few things that this Miller guy just neglected to mention," she explained calmly.

"Like what?"

"Like he has tried repeatedly to seduce Erin for the last few months – with no success, I might add." Then looking her co-worker straight in the eyes, she added in a whisper, as if not quite believing she was thinking that. "Maybe I'm sounding too much like Jack, but I just got the impression that this guy's whole behaviour is just an _act_…"

…/…

The young man opened his eyes slowly but found nothing but utter darkness.

"Where the hell am I?"

His whole body was aching. He tried to move his fingers first, then his arms. The pain in his right arm was just bearable. He proceeded slowly, moving his head from left to right, checking his neck. It seemed okay except for the burning in his throat, where the guy's hands had strangled him until he lost consciousness. Finally, brushing his long hair out of his face, he tried to stand up. He cried out in agony.

"Oh my God, my God…" he whispered plaintively again and again.

Some ribs were broken, he was sure.

Little by little, his eyes got used to the lack of light and the absence of his glasses, and he began to discover the room he was secluded in. A single door on the right. Concrete walls. Cold and dusty atmosphere.

"Must get out of here…"

Clenching his teeth against the pain, trying to ignore the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the young man stood up and began his unsteady progression towards the door, leaning heavily against the wall.

…/…

"_I must escape. Escape."_

_Erin ran for her life along the deserted corridors, her hands compulsively squeezing the videotape against her chest. She violently pushed another door open and rushed into a darkened room. In this safe but fugitive haven, she rested a few seconds, waiting for her shaky breathing to become steadier. The videotape literally burnt her skin through her clothes, and for a moment, she was tempted to just dump it in the nearest garbage can and run away from it as far as possible. However, she couldn't do this. Not after… She waited for a few seconds more, listening intently to her surroundings, her whole body shaking from fright and exhaustion, her pupils dilated like those of a hounded animal. A few seconds more and she gasped, utter panic threatening to paralyze her entire body. Footsteps, she just heard footsteps approaching. _

"_Oh my God… He's coming…"_

_Without thinking, she rushed out of the room and resumed her frantic flight. However, in her haste to escape, she failed to notice the student strolling lazily along the corridor. They violently collided, making both of them fall to the ground in the process. Ignoring his shocked cries of protest, she reached out for the videotape and started running again._

"So you're saying Erin was holding something the day she ran into you?" Jack repeated, trying to focus on what the young man in front of him was actually saying, and not on what his imagination was creating against his will.

"Yeah, I can even tell it was a videotape," the student recalled. "She totally seemed freaked out, y'know," he added, shaking his head.

"When did this event occur?" the agent enquired without looking up from his notepad.

"Well, in early September, I'd say. I'm not sure."

"Right… Did you see what or who she was running from?"

"No, I'm sorry," he answered, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other. The student nervously ran his hand through his dishevelled blonde hair, hesitating, it seemed, over whether to continue. He finally took a deep breath and went on. "Listen… I was stuck at home with the flu until this morning so I wasn't aware of what was going on here. I hope I'm not telling you this too late."

Jack looked up from his notepad and studied the young man. All he found was genuine concern and regret. His pale face and brilliant eyes were the ones of someone just recovering from a severe fever. Trying to sound as hopeful as he could, the agent replied gruffly:

"All I can say, Mr Johansen, is that your testimony is very helpful."

Jack didn't find it necessary to add that what the young man had just said would probably help them understand what might have happened to Erin. But chances were that it would not help them find her _alive_.


	8. Chapter seven

Hey! It's me once again!

Here's chapter seven, hope you'll like it!

Then, another big thank you to Cynically Optimistic for spending her precious free time reading and correcting this fic!

_**CHAPTER SEVEN**_

_**44 HOURS MISSING**_

_**27 HOURS MISSING (?)**_

"Locked, locked, locked..." Kenny plaintive and exhausted voice repeated again and again between sobs as he hit the door with his shaky, bloodied fists, feeling totally, utterly powerless. His ribs were hurting like hell and now his tongue was swollen from thirst. He had tried to force the unmoving lock for hours. He had thrown himself against the door with all his energy to force it open. And throughout, he had screamed, screamed at the top of his lungs, screamed his voice hoarse. In vain. Nobody had come.

Nobody would come.

Despair overwhelmed him. It was over.

Defeated, Kenny sat down, his back against the door, and closed his eyes.

Vivian quietly watched her co-worker as he completed the increasingly precise timeline on the white board. They knew everything, from the most futile detail to the most important one. They knew there was a killer in New Haven. They had discovered he made videos while killing his victims. They were sure that one of these videos had caused the accidental death of an old teacher. They were positive that Erin had found out who the killer was and had disappeared because of that. However, they still missed the most important detail. Who the hell _was_ this killer? And, above all, where was Erin? Even when Danny stopped writing the newest pieces of information that Jack and Samantha had communicated to them, her scrutiny continued, as if the answer she had been looking for since the beginning of the case was there.

_August 14th: cam-corder stolen_

_August 28th: death of Angus McCauley. Because of the tape? Erin very affected. McCauley called just a few hours before_

_August 31st: start of the anonymous phone calls made by payphones._

_First week of September: Erin seen running from something or somebody._

_Third week of September: Alex Miller tries to seduce Erin?_

_October 17th: Kenny Williams tries to force a back door in the storage room_

_October 18th: has a fight with her roommate _

_October 19th: phones her parents. Says she has too much work and can't go home the next week end._

_October 22nd: Erin sends the videotape to her brother_

_October 26th: spends the day with Kenny_

_October 27th, 7 pm: last seen, walking out the Memorial Library_

Reading the timeline one more time even if she almost knew it by heart, Vivian sensed deep inside that something happened on the second week of October. Erin and Kenny had certainly discovered who the killer was. This was the only logical explanation to the somewhat erratic behaviour of both the students who now were missing.

What happened? And, above all, why the hell didn't those kids call the police as soon as they thought they had discovered something?

Dizziness was slowly beginning to invade him. It was over. Over. He was no hero, just a simple geek unable to do anything worthy but watch movies and read books. Kenny shook his head in defeat, a bitter, ironic smile forming on his lips in spite of the pain. He had been foolish to think he could change. He had been foolish to listen to _her_.

"_What's goin' on with you? You wanna play hero?" he asked disbelievingly to his restless friend. They had been arguing in his tiny and dirty apartment for hours, he sitting on his couch, trying to soothe her, she pacing nervously from left to right, not paying attention to the magazines she was trampling on. Outside, the light rain poured endlessly, signalling that summer was over. Kenny understood perfectly what she wanted. He desired nothing more than to help her. However, the rational side of him still rebelled against her idea. There was no way in hell they could do this. That was the cops' task, not theirs._

"_And, what do _you_ want?" She exploded, hitting the shelves next to her violently, making some books move dangerously. "You wanna stay here on your couch while this guy… this guy…" She didn't finish her angry reply and repressed a distressed sob._

_He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't ignore it anymore. The young man stood up and slowly walked to her. When he took her timidly in his arms, she clung to him, not fighting her tears anymore._

"_Listen… Just listen to me, Erin," he soothed her, boldly caressing her damp hair. "I'm gonna help you. Okay?"_

She hadn't answered but clung to him tighter. Kenny could still remember the feeling of her in his arms. For the first time in his life, he had felt close to someone. He had felt _needed_.

Kenny opened his eyes again suddenly, a possessed stare having replaced the previous resigned one.

It wasn't over.

He yelled again.

…/…

"Viv!" Danny exclaimed excitedly as hurried to his co-worker's desk, a folded map in hand. "I think I've got something!"

The older agent looked up expectantly. For the first time since the beginning of the case, her friend seemed to have found his energetic behaviour again. If nothing else, this was good news.

"Yes?"

Smiling triumphantly, Danny unfolded the map where she had marked the numerous and seemingly illogical emplacements of the phone calls. He had just added a few patterns more. Two more green points had appeared at the centre of two big circles. Two points standing for the university and Miller's place. Two circles which contained all the red points she had previously marked with no exception.

"Remember you told me you didn't like this Miller guy at all, even if you didn't have any proof?" he asked again, his usual smirk forming on his lips.

She nodded, her brain trying to process the ramifications of this new piece of information. She was shaking with excitement like a rookie. A lead? At last? She couldn't believe it.

"All the pay phones the stalker used are situated in those circles. None is farther than a ten minute walk from the campus or Miller's place. Big coincidence, isn't it?"

At last, Vivian returned his smile, timidly at first, then more hopefully.

"I'm calling Jack. I think he might want to talk to _Mr. Perfect citizen_ himself. Meanwhile, try to contact our dear Mr. Miller and tell him that we need to meet him again."

"With pleasure," came the cold, biting answer.

…/…

The projection room of the cinema club was an exact reproduction of a tiny and old theatre of the fifties. The atmosphere was fresh, silent and slightly dusty. Ten rows of comfortable, red, velvety stalls occupied the centre of the room. The walls were covered with dark tapestry and old copper lamps spread a sweet light in the quiet place. The last place where Angus McCauley had been before dying was in one of those comfortable stalls. The very place where everything had begun. Jack silently strolled in the room, brushing the soft material of the seats with hesitant fingers, inhaling the fresh and dusty air, trying to imagine what had occurred there.

_The only sound that could be heard was the soft humming of the projector. The only light was the ray of light coming from the same projector to illuminate the big screen at the other end of the room with a painful bright white light. Erin looked around her, trying to locate the professor who had asked her to join him in the projection room a few hours earlier. He had sounded distressed on the phone. Silently hoping that he wouldn't mind her late arrival, she discovered his sitting form a few meters in front of her. She silently approached and sat beside him._

"_Mr. McCauley?" she asked timidly._

_No answer._

"_Mr. McCauley?" she repeated, louder this time._

_No answer. _

_Hesitantly, she reached for him and touched his shoulder._

_He didn't stir._

_Erin scooted closer and discovered then that his eyes were opened, staring into space. His face was contorted with horror. He didn't breath anymore. Repressing a wave of nausea, she covered her mouth with a shaky hand and jumped back from her stall. Then she remembered._

"_A videotape. He told me about a videotape."_

_Without thinking further, she ran to the projector._

"Jack? Jack!" a well known, worried voice woke him up from his morbid reverie. The feeling of her fingers brushing his shoulder, his hair, and his cheek brought him back to the real world.

"You all right?" she asked again as she tried to find his still dazed eyes.

"Yeah…" he simply replied with a light smile and briefly took her hand. "Yeah, I'm okay," he repeated more firmly to reassure his lover.

Even if she could feel he was trying to soothe her worries, Samantha knew him too well not to notice the air of resignation in his eyes. And she didn't like it. The first time she had seen it, she had stayed with him in the deserted and quiet office, talking to him about everything and nothing for hours until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. When she had opened her eyes again, the first light of dawn appearing through the windows, she was lying on his couch, his jacket warmly wrapped around her. He had fallen asleep on his chair, an unknown quiet and sweet expression written on his face, an expression that had taken her breath away. That morning, she had discovered she wanted to know this side of him more. The second time she had noticed it, they had worked for a week to find a missing grandmother, in vain. She had been there when he had sadly announced to a grieving family they couldn't work on the case anymore. She had been there a few hours later when finally his tough mask had fallen apart, when the tears he had been restraining for days had begun to silently form in his distressed eyes. This time, she had walked to him and quietly put a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder. The too brief contact had been overwhelming and she had discovered she wanted nothing more than to touch him again, feel his warmth again. The third time she had seen it, the same light was reflecting in her own teary eyes. It was four months ago. They had walked the dark streets for hours, unaware of the joyous crowd of the night. Without thinking of it, they had reached her building and she had invited him in. That night, the need to comfort him, and be comforted by him, had made her cast caution aside. When she had woken up, they were cuddling together on her couch, fully dressed. Never in her whole life had she felt so secure and happy, never had she felt so needed. The fourth time she had noticed it, it was two months ago.

_The hot, humid and polluted atmosphere of late summer was suffocating. Still, what was more suffocating was the horrendous sight they had witnessed a few hours earlier when they had discovered Jenny Parker's lifeless body on the floor of an anonymous motel room in New Jersey. She had disappeared three days ago, abandoning her now grieving husband and kids, leaving her seemingly happy life behind her to kill herself in this lonely room. All that the note she had written with a trembling hand before swallowing the deadly pills mentioned was that she couldn't take it anymore, that she was sorry. Since that tragic moment, Jack hadn't uttered a single word, visibly lost in his own world. Samantha knew he was blaming himself, but she couldn't imagine why. Now, he was sitting on her couch once again, his lost eyes staring into space, an untouched glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. His breathing was shaky as he fought to contain his sobs. She was at a loss, for the first time since she had joined the team, she didn't know how to reach him. However, she couldn't ignore the growing urge to make this sombre light disappear from his eyes. Yet, she also couldn't ignore that, after the discovery of the afternoon, there was nothing she wanted more than to seek refuge in his arms like two months earlier. Silently examining him from her kitchen counter, the dawning realization fell upon her and shred the last remnants of caution into pieces. They needed each other, and nothing else was as important. Abandoning her task in the kitchen, she quietly walked to the couch and took the glass from his unresisting hand. He didn't protest. She sat beside him and lovingly caressed his cheek._

"_What's going on?" she whispered as she scooted closer._

"_Nothing," the expected answer came._

"_Jack…Talk to me, please," she pleaded, now lightly brushing his hair._

_He didn't reply. He was still fighting whatever was haunting him._

"_Jack, it's not your fault," she insisted as she put her hands on each side of his face, trying to force him to look at her._

_What she saw in them took her breath away. An almost childish distress, a profoundly hidden guilt had invaded his now teary eyes. However, she discovered something else that made her boldly brush his lips with her fingers. He was silently crying out for help, for _her_ help._

"_My mother…" he finally uttered in painful voice as he suddenly clung to her, hiding his face from the world into her welcoming shoulder._

_Samantha didn't need to hear more and finally did what she had dreamt of for months, at last. Silently, she reached for his face one more time, forcing him to look at her, and lightly brushed her lips against his trembling one. _

The next morning, they had woken up wrapped in each other arms. The dark light in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by the soft and sweet expression she had discovered so many months ago. Silently, smiling, he had rolled her on her back and brushed the fading scars on her right shoulder, left upper arm and stomach with his lips. Silently, smiling, he had caressed her smooth body for long, endless moments, worshipping her, eliciting quiet whimpers from her. Then, when he had slowly entered her, eliciting another dreamy moan from her, she had heard him whisper in her ear: "My turn to comfort you…"

Fighting the urge to reach for him like she had that night, Samantha put a light hand on his arm instead.

"Jack…" she breathed. "You're thinking we've lost them for good, aren't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

The sad look he gave her was answer enough. However, before she could utter her words of encouragement, the sound of a panicked student rushing into the projection room startled them. Out of breath, the curly haired young woman hastily walked to them.

"I was looking for a tape in the storage room…" she panted. "I… I… I think I've heard something."

…/…

Kenny had yelled so much his throat was beginning to ache horribly. He violently punched the ground out of frustration.

"Fuck!"

He had lost track of time but, deep inside, he knew that, if he stayed in that darkened room much longer, he was going to lose it totally. He _had _to get out of there. He needed to see the daylight again.

"Help me!" he shouted his voice hoarse once again. "Is there somebody out there?" he pleaded, shutting his eyes tightly. He was tired, so tired. He wanted to lie down and sleep. But if he did that, the asshole would escape, unharmed. He couldn't give up. Breathing deeply, he shouted again and again. There was nothing else he could do.

…/…

"So, you're saying you heard shouting coming from behind the back door?" Samantha repeated curiously as they hurried to the storage room, fighting the sense of hope that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"Yes… Well, I think," the student answered timidly before going on more animatedly: "Still, with everything going on here, maybe I imagined it, you know. I don't want to waste your time…"

The young agent stopped the girl's rambling while Jack answered his phone. Trying to ignore the growing darkness appearing on his face as he talked, she attempted to soothe the young woman's concern.

"The simplest details are important, you know. You don't have to worry about wasting our time," she gently replied as they rushed into the deserted storage room. Unconsciously brushing her bruised throat, Samantha repressed a shudder at the memory of what had happened there two days ago. Nonetheless, she hid her sudden apprehension from the student's panicked eyes as she continued with a calming smile.

"That's okay. We're taking it from here. Why don't you wait for us in the main hall?"

Grateful to get out of the fateful room, the young woman mumbled a rapid "all right" and rushed out of the room with trembling steps.

As soon as she was gone, Samantha addressed a questioning glance to her companion who had just switched off his cell phone.

"It was Viv. Good news, we seem to have a solid suspect at last. This Miller guy Vivian wasn't fond of," he explained. "Bad news is he seems to have vanished into thin air," he finished with a disgusted frown as he unsheathed his gun, took his flashlight and opened the backdoor in a more decisive fashion than he had two days before.

Once again, they were cautiously walking the dark, humid corridor. Once again, Samantha could feel the irrational wave of fear washing over her. With the exception of the police seals on the door of the mysterious room, nothing had changed since their last visit. Still, she had the impression that the corridor was colder, darker and more humid than the last time they had been there. Their careful steps and nervous breathing were intensified in the silence. Samantha knew it was a product of her troubled and exhausted imagination but she began to walk closer to her companion, seeking the comfort of his warm presence. They silently and safely reached the mysterious room. While Jack started to check the seals, she kept a watch on their surroundings, irrationally expecting the silhouette to re-emerge from the shadows. However, nobody came. Instead, they heard a hoarse yell coming from the inside.

…/…

Footsteps. He was sure he had heard footsteps approaching.

A wave of hope engulfed him and he opened his mouth to scream once again before firmly closing it. Maybe Miller was coming back to check on him. Maybe this asshole was coming back to kill him. Kenny decided to stay silent and wait.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door he was leaning against. There was somebody a few inches from him. Concentrating as much as he could, he began to listen intently what was going on on the other side of the door. After a few seconds of waiting, Kenny felt the wave of hope overwhelming him.

Two hushed voices, he had heard two hushed voices. This couldn't be Miller.

Tears of relief forming in his eyes, he stepped back from the door and shouted one last time.

…/…

Jack violently pushed the door open, and both agents stormed past it pointing their guns and flashlights into darkened room to discover a beyond exhausted Kenny Williams, knelt down on the ground, his trembling hands on his face which was covered with vicious bruises and dried out blood, but where an amazed and relieved expression was slowly appearing.

…/…


	9. Chapter eight

Hey... It's been a long time, I know and I apologize for that. Anyway, here is a new chapter which, I hope, is going to help and heal the injuries caused by the final

A big thankstoDiane who accepted to beta this chapter, andto Cynically Optimistic, my old beta who seems to have disappeared from the WAT galaxy, unfortunately, and to JBird who knew to kick my butt and push me to go on with the story.

Enjoy!

_**45 HOURS MISSING**_

He hated hospitals, that was a fact. Actually, he couldn't find anything he could stand in those places. The plain, white walls made him feel claustrophobic. The acrid smell of disinfectant burned his lungs. The hushed voices of the nurses and the plaintive cries resounding from the rooms from time to time hurt his ears. And, above all, Jack couldn't stand the anonymous, suffocating waiting rooms. Too many hurtful memories were attached to them, personally and professionally. Unable to stay on the uncomfortable chair a second more, Jack abruptly stood up and began to nervously pace across the room, totally unaware of his companion's worried glance. Of course, Hannah and Kate's births were happy memories and he dearly cherished every seconds of these moments, from the anxious waiting for what had seemed days to him to the moment he had been able to hold his newborn daughters in his shaking and clumsy arms for the first time. Still, these unique memories weren't sufficient to make him forget the horrible ones.

Like the day back in his childhood when he and his mother had spent hours in a sordid military hospital waiting for the authorization to go and visit his injured father.

Like the months, years later, he had spent between a white and lonely room and the re-education centre, learning to walk properly again.

Like the first time he had had to hear from a solemn doctor that the missing person they had found barely alive hadn't made it in the end.

Like the cursed day of his seventeenth year when…

"Jack…" The comforting sound of Samantha's voice suddenly made the haunting ghosts retreat back into the depths of his memory, like it had always done since he first met her.

"Jack," his co-worker repeated softly, touching his forearm to get his full attention, a simple gesture she seemed to do more and more often these days. "A nurse just came and told me that Kenny is awake," she announced with a relieved smile before going on more urgently: "Even if he's still groggy, they say we can talk to him for ten minutes at most."

The older agent exhaled deeply. At least, they had managed to save somebody from that nightmare. Slowly, the utter and painful feeling of helplessness he had felt for two days began to vanish, replaced by a renewed sense of hope. After all, they weren't that useless.

When Jack found his voice again, his usual resolved and calm tone came back as well, much to his companion's relief.

"Ten minutes they say? Alright, let's go and see what we can find out," he simply pronounced and, guiding the young woman with a gentle hand on her back, a gesture _he_ was doing more and more often it seemed, he decidedly progressed towards the room indicated by the nurse, guiding the young woman with a gentle and comforting hand on her back, a silent way to tell her his hopeful feeling that maybe it wasn't too late, after all.

…/…

"So this is our dear Mister Miller's home," Danny spat in a low and disgusted tone.

"Yeah," his co-worker confirmed in a breath.

Then silence came back and filled the car.

When they had phoned to Jack and told him that they thought they had found something about Alex Miller, their boss had asked them to deal with the guy, since he and Samantha were driving behind the ambulance heading to the hospital with a badly injured Kenny Williams.

Badly injured but alive.

So here they were, parked in front of Miller's home, silently collecting their thoughts before confronting their suspect. In fact, they had no solid proof against him but just coincidences and intuition. That wasn't enough to get a warrant, far from it. There was also the disturbing possibility that their current state of mind due to the discovery of the infamous videotape the day before was clouding their judgement. After all, maybe their brand new suspect was just some little rich crap and nothing more. They just couldn't storm into his house and point their gun under his nose, even if, deep inside, they wanted to do nothing more than that.

Sighing deeply, Vivian broke the silence heavy with self-doubt.

"Danny?"

Her friend answered after a few seconds.

"Yeah?"

"You sure you can handle this? You know, I can go alone and you stay here as a backup," she proposed kindly, knowing too much that her partner had been on an emotional rollercoaster since the evening before, and knowing too much that letting an armed agent in that state of mind deal with a potential suspect could be catastrophic.

Danny waited for a few seconds, as if he was considering the proposition, before he replied with a weak smile:

"Yeah, I think I can handle this."

Then, feeling he hadn't quite convinced his partner, he added more firmly, looking deeply into the woman's eyes to give more force to the words he was speaking:

"Don't worry, Viv. I want to catch the guy who's done that more than anything and I won't do any mistake some sleazy lawyer could use to save his ass. I promise."

Maybe it was the promise that convinced her, maybe it was the solemn look Danny just gave her that reassured her but Vivian felt that, after all, the young man would be able to deal properly with the Miller guy.

"Alright, then. Let's go and see what Alex has to say to us…"

…/…

Samantha almost winced as she discovered the bruised face of Kenny Williams once again. She silently observed the nurse walking to the bed to speak to the sleepy young man. Just like every time she had to interrogate a witness at the hospital, the young agent was assaulted by contradicted feelings. Of course, on the one hand, they needed to speak to him quickly in order to find out who did this to him and what happened to Erin. Still, on the other hand, she hated having to disturb the much needed rest of someone who just went through hell. For a second, she was almost tempted to tell the nurse to let him sleep even if she knew deep inside it was impossible. Erin was still missing and they needed to find her.

Lost in her thoughts, Samantha didn't notice that, after having talked briefly to the young man, the nurse had reminded them they only had ten minutes then silently had retreated in the corridor nearby. It was only when she saw her co-worker slowly approaching the bed and taking a chair that she realised that Kenny was watching them intently with anxious eyes.

Not waiting for the agents to ask their first question, he enquired in a hoarse and hesitant voice:

"You haven't found her yet?"

Jack answered softly as he sat down on the chair and took out his notepad:

"No, not yet."

The brutal honesty of the answer seemed to hit the young man more painfully than all the blows he had already received. Closing his eyes, he tried to control the sobs building in his throat.

"I… I… I'm sure he killed her," he finally stated after a few seconds of silence and added in a sob:

"I… I…I told her we had to call the cops but she… she… she wouldn't listen to me."

The two agents looked at each other sadly as they witnessed despair washing on Kenny's face. This was one of those occasions when they could feel the cruel and profound bites of powerlessness, bites that never heal totally and slowly but surely eat them alive like a plague.

"She kept on saying that we needed proofs before going to the cops and I didn't stop her… I should have… I didn't… I'm such a useless jerk," he went on with his barely coherent ramblings, covering his bruised face with a trembling hand. Now his tears were flowing freely.

One look from Jack and Samantha knew that she had to take the lead on this one. She gently reached for Kenny's arm, trying to get his attention.

"Kenny… Kenny…" she attempted to soothe the sobbing young man. "You didn't know. You couldn't know."

"No!" he exclaimed violently chasing the unwelcome hand away as if its mere contact was burning him. "I should have done something. I should have…" he went on with his desperate mantra.

There was no way to reach him anymore. It was as if his mind had suddenly gone away and locked itself in its own prison of guilt and pain. Samantha shook her head in defeat and shot one last inquiring look at her partner, who nodded in answer. One last attempt then they would leave the poor man alone, answer or not. There was no point in keeping on torturing him like this.

"Kenny," she repeated more firmly. "I just have two questions, then we'll leave, alright?"

Silence.

"I promise, Kenny. Just two last questions."

The young man closed his eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them again, his stare focused on the door in front of him.

Deciding that it was some kind of agreement, she went on:

"Did Miller do this to you?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

Taking a deep breath, she wrote down his statement before asking her last question:

"Do you think he's the one who abducted Erin?"

"Yes."

…/…

**_46 HOURS MISSING_**

Ever the consummate host, Alex Miller didn't make the agents wait for long before he answered the door, a bright and welcoming smile plastered on his face.

"Agent Johnson, agent Taylor, is there something else I can do for you?" he enquired with sugary politeness.

Fighting the disdain menacing to overwhelm her at any second, Vivian answered with her slow, patient tone she reserved for the worst criminals.

"Actually, yes. It seems like our investigation had discovered new elements that could help us to find Erin and Kenny," she explained, deciding not to divulge Kenny's safe recovery for the moment and studied her interlocutor's reactions.

Alex Miller's face expressed nothing but this disgusting cheerfulness she had came to hate since the previous interrogation:

"Oh! That's good news. How can I help you?"

Vivian didn't miss a beat and answered back, a bright smile of hers appearing on her face.

"Oh, very simply, really. First of all, you could tell me why your _girlfriend_'s disappearance doesn't seem to worry you that much, Mr. Miller."

A reaction, at last.

"My… girlfriend? Erin?" the young man asked incredulously. Vivian noticed with satisfaction that, visibly, he wasn't ready for that line of questioning.

"Yeah, at least that's what our colleagues heard at the cinema club," she went on, always smiling, not letting him recover from his surprise.

A breach in the wall, finally.

"I… I don't understand, I'm sorry," he stuttered, visibly pretty shaken up by this latest blow.

Danny observed the scene, leaning on his arm on the doorframe, using the advantage of his height to lightly loom over the smaller man, his trademark smirk firmly settled on his lips. Sometimes, his mere physical presence was more effective than words. Noticing that Alex tried and stepped back from him, the tall agent decided it was definitely one of those times and made a step forward to maintain the distance.

"Yeah, at least the girl you were hitting on the other day near the men's bathroom, y'know," Vivian added mercilessly, her smile never leaving her lips.

"Oh," the student exclaimed, regaining a little bit of assurance, or trying to. "I think we have a misunderstanding here."

"Really?"

"Yes… I mean, I tried to ask her out, I confess but…" he began.

"Ask her out? Near the men's bathroom? How romantic," she interrupted him, with just an ounce of irony creeping in her voice.

Danny watched his colleague in awe. She was incredible, really. Vivian had this talent of hers, this calm smile and natural kindness that made appear harmless to the suspects, this "Mother Theresa" quality that lulled them and deceived them. And, when they discovered the truth behind the mask, when they were confronted brutally to the sharp investigator she really was, it was too late. Alex Miller was no exception.

"Yes," the student shrugged with a sad smile. "But she refused and things stopped right there," he offered as an explanation. "End of story."

"Really?" Danny interrupted at last. "You sure you didn't insist further?" he asked, leaning dangerously towards Miller.

"What do you mean?" the young man asked defensively.

Another breach.

"Telephone calls, Alex. Numerous telephone calls," the agent nearly growled. "Doesn't it ring a bell?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't, Agent Taylor," Miller answered back, partially disguising the edge in his voice into polite coldness.

The guy was regaining his confidence in spite of his discomfort and Danny's pressure and Vivian felt it was high time to deliver her last blow.

"Well, Mr Miller, those precisions are really helpful and will complement Kenny's testimony, I'm sure," she pronounced calmly, stressing on the last part of her sentence.

A third breach.

"Excuse me? I thought Kenny was…" the student said incredulously, his pupils dilating instantly.

"Yeah, he was missing, but our colleagues just found him, badly injured but alive. If you want to visit him and support him, he's safe at the hospital now," she finally threw the bait.

"Oh, that's good for him, that's a relief, really. Thanks for telling me, Agent Johnson," Miller articulated in the most sugary polite voice, but his cheerful smile never reached his eyes.

Vivian shrugged while Danny's smirk deepened.

"Don't mention it, Mr. Miller. Have a good day."

Then the agents bid their goodbyes and walked away.

"Fucking actor, isn't he?" Danny commented.

"Yes."

"It's him."

"Yep."

"But we still don't have any proof," he shook his head.

"Sadly not."

"How about you watch the front door while I deal with the backdoor?" the young agent proposed.

"Deal," Vivian accepted with a predatory grin. "And I'm calling Jack."

…/…

It wasn't the right moment nor the right place. It wasn't professional at all, she knew it deep inside. Still, Samantha couldn't help but feel a sweet emotion engulfing her when she witnessed the tiny smirk forming on Jack's lips as he listened intently to whomever was on the phone. A smile of her own appeared as the mischievous glint which usually went with that typical smirk lit in his eyes as well. _This_ was what she had labelled as Jack Malone's _copyrighted-even-if-you-don't-know-it-yet-I-gotcha-expression_. _This _was one of the numerous things in this man that had pushed her hard in the foolishness of their affair. She was still staring at him when he shut off his cell phone with a firm clapping sound and a growing smirk, and raised an amused eyebrow, a silent way to ask what was making him appear like a cat playing with a mouse all of a sudden.

"Vivian's on Miller's back and she isn't gonna let him go, I'm telling you," he explained with a dark, almost cruel smile.

"Poor guy," the young woman commented with false sympathy. "Then, what are we doing now?"

Suddenly, the light in his eyes disappeared and harsh resolve took its place.

"We get our asses to his neighbourhood, we wait for him to make his move, then we nail his ass for good," Jack answered darkly as he resumed his walk to the car.

Samantha digested his reply with a pang in her heart and sadly studied the man in front of her. His steps were decided but there was a tension in his slightly crouched shoulders that betrayed his new state of mind. This wasn't Jack the hope junkie decided to save the missing person no matter what. All he seemed to be focused on was nailing the bastard now. A desperate feeling of revolt coursed through her. What about Erin? What about _her_? In spite of the numerous negative evidences they had gathered, shouldn't she stay their main focus? For God's sake, they didn't work for violent crimes, they were a missing persons unit!

"Jack!" she uttered, maybe a bit more harshly than she intended.

Her partner turned around to discover a pale Samantha who was nervously clenching and opening her fists.

"What?"

"You're forgetting _her_," she accused him, totally oblivious of her surroundings. She wasn't on the parking lot of the hospital anymore. She wasn't among people susceptible to witness the obvious insubordination of a FBI agent in front of her boss anymore. All that mattered was that the compassionate Jack she cared for so much had disappeared suddenly and let its place to the cold agent that he became sometimes and that she didn't like at all.

"I'm not," the simple answer resounded. "On the contrary."

"No!" she answered back vehemently. "You're only thinking about Miller and nailing him," the young woman went on.

He didn't dare to respond immediately.

After a few seconds, he spoke again, his voice a bit louder:

"Listen, you wanna know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking we're too late, we've been too late from the very beginning." Then, pausing a tentative hand on her shoulder, he went on more softly : "It's just one of these cases, y'know…"

Jack didn't need to speak any longer. It was just one of these cases, the ones she hated the most, when you discovered that all the researches you've done were useless for the missing person was, in fact, a dead person. Fighting the well known feeling of helplessness and the desire to lean against his solid frame, she shook her head.

"Sorry, I was out of line," she gently apologized. "It's just I hate this…"

Her partner squeezed lightly her shoulder in a comforting, fugitive gesture before guiding her to the car with a hand on the small of her back.

"Yeah, me too. That's why I wanna nail the guy."


	10. Chapter nine

So, a long time ago, a very long time ago, I began to write this fic… Then I hit a wall called writer block. In order to try and finish this story, I began another one called _The cheese and the worms_, thinking it would help my muse to come back. Unfortunately, said muse, after a few sparks, decided to enter in this long comatose state until recently. I finally updated _The cheese and the worms_, and this very update seems to have the planned effect since I found a way to finish this damn fic.

All those futile words to say that I'm very sorry (and a bit ashamed too) for this long silence and that, if you're still willing to follow me, I'm now ready to take you to the end of the trip. At last.

A big thank you to Diane and her so welcome "nagging"…

Disclaimer : I don't anything. Nada. Que dalle.

**CHAPTER NINE**

_**46 HOURS MISSING**_

For the tenth time in the last five minutes, Alex Miller walked nervously to the side of one of the front windows, pulled the light green heavy curtain just enough to cast a discrete glance outside and was unable to contain his frown. The navy blue SUV was still there. Those damn Feds were still there. A sudden wave of cold, implacable rage almost submerged him as he dug his nails in his sweaty palm to the point droplets of blood began to appear without him even noticing the pain he inflicted himself. He could still see the male agent's stupid, overconfident smirk. He could still hear the female agent's hypocritical, despicable voice. Who did they think they were? How could they dare talk to him like that? A violent swing with his left arm projected the crystal vase his mother liked so much on the opposite wall along with its bouquet of orange and golden lilies. The young man absently contemplated the mess he just caused, the flowers and crystal shards scattered everywhere, the stains of water and pollen on the light green wall and carpet. Stupid flowers. Stupid vase. He never understood his mother's love for those _pretty things _anyway Another liberating swing swept away the china cups and teapot from the sideboard between the two front windows and sent them crashing on the ground. It was impossible. Where had he gone wrong? What mistake had he made? His plan was flawless, as usual, and he had perfectly executed it, as usual.

_It was all her fault._ If that bitch had refrained her _fucking_ curiosity and stopped being so _fucking_ nosy, the Feds would have never crossed his way. Her damn researches had forced him to act and make her disappear before she became too dangerous. She had obliged him to hasten the plan he had elaborated to catch Gloria, this stunning, overconfident woman who worked in the juridical section of the library on Mondays and Wednesdays, a plan he had thought of for nearly a year. Alex let out a dangerous growl. Not only had the stupid girl made him act almost rashly, which he hated, but she had also forced him to abandon his long chosen prey. This last fact was the one which left the bitterest taste in his mouth. He had anticipated the moment he would have made the woman sit on the chair, the seconds he would have secured her on it, the hours he would have played with her and enjoyed her panicked stare for so many months.

"Fuck!" the young man yelled as he gave a violent kick to the sideboard, the vibrations causing the fall of the long-necked vase, which had escaped from his previous fit of rage. There was nothing left of the cool, seemingly unbreakable façade the agents had broken their teeth on for almost two days. However, the last interview had created small breaches, then the dam had totally collapsed under the pressure of his blinding, ravenous fury and frustration. Now, Alex Miller was just a standing, trembling form in the middle of a harrowed living room, a man covered by cold sweat, unable to contain his hidden violence, and, more than the failure of his plan, this uncontrolled rage, this pathetic attitude was what disgusted him the most. He was better than _that_. Much better. Alex closed his eyes, trying to regain control on his emotions, to stop the shaking of his clenched fists, to focus his wrath on the true targets.

There was no point in blaming himself, for he hadn't made any mistake. _It was all her fault._ And, indeed, he had made her pay; pay for having tried to outsmart him, for having denied him the pleasure anticipated for so long, for having been so stubborn and fixed her arrogant eyes on his. She had been a tough one, he had to concede, but, in the end, he had broken her; like the others, she had given him the immense pleasure of contemplating her panicked stare. Not nearly as glorious as what he had imagined for Gloria, not nearly as pleasurable, but he had won one more time. Then, it had been Kenny's turn to accept his superiority. The fool had confronted him, thinking he could compete with him. Poor, pathetic guy. It had been almost too easy, since the first blow to his ribs to the final kick in the head. The young man took a deep, calming breath. If the Feds had something concrete, solid on him, sirens would have resounded in the neighbourhood minutes ago. If Kenny had denounced him, the cops would have broken into his home already. A cruel smile formed on his lips. Or, maybe, they were stupid enough to hope they still could save the bitch.

Oh, God. He was better than _them_. So much better.

Kenny, the stupid agents. _It was their entire fault. _And he was going to make them pay, pay being too dumb to survive, for asking their damn questions with their superior smile…

He was invincible, after all.

…/…

"So, what's the plan?" Samantha asked to her silent companion as they were driving to Alex Miller's neighbourhood. In fact, said companion hadn't uttered a sound since they had gotten into the car and her question seemed like a desperate attempt to make him open up a little. This particular attitude used to worry and infuriate her before their affair started and now, she really couldn't stand it when this dark and thoughtful expression began to cover his face. Now, she knew what demons this type of cases awakened in his mind, she knew the battle between his desire to bring justice at any cost for the lost person and his obligation to his job properly that was raging inside him. And all she could do for now was showing her support by her presence and her word before comforting him in her embrace, in the secret of her apartment.

_Later_.

Until then, words were her only resources, so she pressed him again:

"_Jack_, are you listening? What are we going to do?"

As it often did, the use of his first name did the trick and tore him up from his dark reverie.

"Sorry", he answered lightly shaking his head as if trying to awaken for real. "Guess I'm a little tired," he offered as a weak explanation, perfectly knowing she wouldn't buy it.

"Yeah, right…"

"What did you want?" he asked, prolonging the charade.

"Nothing, I was just wondering about what we are going to do with this guy."

"Simple. Danny and Vivian stay where they are to get on his nerves. And you and I are waiting for him to make a move," he explained as if she didn't already know their plan.

And, fugitively squeezing her hand, he offered her a gentle smile to answer her silent question.

_No, I'm not gonna lose it._

_No, I'm not gonna kill the bastard._

_Thank you._

"All right," she said, accepting both answers with a smile of her own.

…/…

_**48 HOURS MISSING**_

"No, he hasn't moved yet," Vivian made her report to the other waiting car. "Don't know what he's doing… But Danny has gone out to take a look at the house; maybe he'll have something interesting about the little bastard."

Her conversation with Jack over, she turned her attention to the house once more. Earlier, Danny and she had noticed some agitation in what seemed to be the living room. However, since then, everything had been quiet. The evening had come and the lights inside were still out. The agent was beginning to think that Miller hadn't taken their bait after all. After all, the guy was a sadistic and intelligent creep who had abducted fellow students to film them as he tortured and murdered them. He believed dearly in his _superiority_. And, her interviews with him had shown her how much he despised the mere cops they were.

So, maybe their classic plan of pressuring the suspect wasn't going to function this time.

…/…

Miller gave a final look at the improvised mechanism and smiled. Not perfect, but it was the best he could do in so short a notice. One last time, he checked that everything was ready.

_Ready for the show._

Before exiting the garage, _his studio_, he adjusted the camera so that it was able to catch everything that was going to happen in this room. Once satisfied with his work, the man walked out calmly.

Those damn cops may think they got him but he was going to make sure they remember his name for a very long while.

_Ready for the last show._

…/…

"Jack, he won't come out," Danny commented from behind the house. "What are we going to do? Have you obtained a warrant?"

The young agent had slowly but surely been losing his patience throughout the case, and this fruitless waiting was taking its toll as well.

"Nah," came the defeated answer. "Looks like Mr. Miller has very good friends in the right places… I have been told that what we had wasn't enough to get a warrant…"

"What?" Danny nearly exploded. "That's crazy, Jack, c'mon! We know perfectly well it's him; there are proofs, there's Kenny's testimony, there…"

"I know that! Believe me, I want to nail the bastard as much as you do, Danny," Jack answered coldly. "But, for now, all we can do is wait. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, sure," the younger man muttered before resuming his discrete vigil.

…/…

_**49 HOURS MISSING**_

"Still nothing, damn it," Jack muttered as he mechanically reached into his pocket, only to discover it was empty. "What the fuck is he doing?" God, he could really use a smoke right now, but he had left his last cigarette at the office, expecting to savour it as a victory trophy before giving up the stuff for good. At least that was the plan this morning, before their heart-wrenching discovery of Kenny Williams, before he lost hope of finding Erin alive and well… A fugitive movement on his right, the same Samantha already had done four times in the last hour, betrayed his companion's similar impatience and longing. In spite of the seriousness of their situation, he stole a few seconds to appreciate the way she repeatedly tried to put a stubborn, golden lock behind her ear, a typical sign of her growing nervousness.

"Old habits die hard..." he mused, an amused smile forming on his lips.

"God, she's beautiful…" was his second thought when she became aware of his silent staring and returned a sweet and conniving grin of hers.

…/…

The frustrating waiting was beginning to take its toll on the whole team. Her latest conversations with Jack and Danny proved that. Everyone's temper was slowly rising, and the ever patient Vivian Johnson was no exception. The judge had rejected their demand for a warrant for the second time just a few minutes before and all they had left to do was to wait for their suspect to do a move, any move. The problem was the bastard didn't seem to make any. Danny had reported some activity in what seemed to be the garage two hours ago, but, since then, Miller hadn't moved an ear.

It was utterly frustrating.

Besides, she had this nagging feeling in her stomach that this absence of movement was done on purpose; as if Miller was trying to play with their nerves. Vivian had met the creep twice and, in spite all the disgust she felt, she had to admit Miller was a smart guy, a very smart guy, even. And, if the way Danny had snapped at her during their last call was any proof, whatever the plan was, it was working.

Miller was preparing something, her intuition was screaming it, but she couldn't even begin to imagine what it could be.

_God help them._

…/…

_**50 HOURS MISSING**_

Danny blew in his hands in a vain attempt to warm his hands, bitterly regretting the pair of gloves he had left at the office. October nights could get really cold and this evening was no exception. Again, he hadn't thought when he started his surveillance of the house earlier in the afternoon that he still would be there almost four hours later.

Damn the bastard.

Damn the judge who thought Kenny's testimony and the other evidence weren't enough.

He wasn't a rookie anymore, but his reaction to this kind of situations hadn't changed since his first day in the Bureau: he couldn't stand feeling useless; he couldn't bear seeing a suspect escape because of some judge's concern to preserve his reputation. Years after years, the young agent had worked hard to improve himself, to raise himself at the level of Jack's expectations, and he had become the agent he was today.

Not perfect, but pretty solid.

However, he hadn't quite succeeded in totally controlling this weakness of his: his temper and his impatience. In spite of what he had told Vivian earlier, the proof was still evident today. Without Jack's constant warnings, he surely would have done something stupid, like entering the house without a warrant… Fortunately, he wasn't alone that evening; the whole team was there to help him, calming him, backing him up. The four of them were there and, very soon, they will walk out from this house, with a handcuffed Alex Miller between them.

…/…

Samantha reached for her handbag for the third time in the last hour and cursed inwardly. If the pack of cigarettes wasn't here last time, there was no need to check again, was it? She sighed tiredly. Fortunately, Jack's silent presence, his fugitive and reassuring touches were doing more than compensating for the lack of nicotine. Much more. His presence was even so precious she really didn't want to think about what it could mean for her.

_For them._

The young woman lightly shook her head. Silence was definitely bad; it made her over think and this was not the moment. She was about to comment about the ridiculous bushes in some neighbour's garden, anything to disrupt the silence, when a chilling scream made her regret the comfort of stillness.

It was a scream of pain and terror.

It was a desperate scream.

She had already heard it.

On the videotapes.

Jack and she were already out of the car when she realized how much this sound was familiar. Without really concerting each other, the whole team broke into the house and each one chose their own area.

Danny entered by the back door and began to search the kitchen then the living room.

Vivian rushed up the stairs to check the bedrooms.

Jack motioned her to follow him toward the garage.

Then hell broke loose.


	11. Chapter ten

So, here's the tenth chapter of this story. Once again, I'd like to thanks those who went on reading this in spite of the lack of regular updates (sweet euphemism). From now, the story will be a bit special as I'm trying to use the Rashomon structure to tell the ending. I hope it's functioning.

As usual, I want to thanks my great and super fast beta reader Diane.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Tesis_, I don't own WAT and I don't own _Rashomon_. Still, I'm trying to play a little with them before giving them a break.

**CHAPTER TEN**

_**50 HOURS MISSING**_

As soon as he had heard the chilling scream coming out of the depths of the house, Danny had burst through the back door, aiming his gun and lamp at the threatening darkness, trying to contain the sudden rush of adrenaline. Being able to act at last after such a long and frustrating, unnerving waiting was like a deliverance and he didn't want this feeling to cloud his judgement, to make him unable to perceive a single presence in the darkness, friendly or unfriendly. Taking a deep, calming breath, he cautiously stepped further into the kitchen, examining it thoroughly while paying attention to the most insignificant little noise.

The sound of his own respiration.

The sound of a slightly leaking faucet.

Vivian's typical short footstep walking up some stairs.

The habitual creaking sounds of a wooden framework.

Jack and Sam's combined footsteps silently sliding to what was probably the garage.

Danny took a last look at the deserted kitchen and cursed inwardly. He had been waiting for hours next to the backdoor and the remnants of a cooling meal showed him that the little creep had not been farther than a few fucking steps from him at some time.

_Bastard._

So many hours of unnerving, frustrating vigil without knowing Alex and he were only separated by this thin wall! The young agent felt a well-known tension right under his temples, a tell-tale sign of his rising anger and he had to make a conscious effort to relax his clenched jaw. However, the tension was still there, duller but still present and now spreading in the tendons of his neck. He was furious, he could feel it; and a bit afraid too. Miller was a mean, smart bastard and he couldn't help worrying a bit for his partners, especially for Vivian who seemingly had walked upstairs on her own. That's why he just couldn't let his feelings blind him; he had to keep his cool, at least until they caught the guy.

Then he'd run straight to his sponsor because he knew that the craving would be unbearable after they closed _this _case.

Then, the next day, he'd take his motorbike outside for a long, long ride down the coast.

Then, at last, he'd feel better.

Danny took a final steadying breath and approached the door in front of him. This one probably led to the main room or maybe some room in between. Slowly, he manoeuvred the door open, pointing at the space he was creating with his gun, before barging more decidedly into the room. He took a few steps farther and began to explore it. On his left, he saw a door still closed. Farther on his right, he guessed another door left open, maybe the one leading to the garage. Facing this door, there was another one left ajar, probably leading to the stairs Vivian had been climbing just a few moments earlier. He inspected the well-lit, empty hall one last time just to be sure Miller wasn't hiding anywhere, and, almost smiling at his futile thoroughness, the only place where the bastard could have been hidden was the ancient cupboard between the two doors on his left, Danny slowly retreated down the hall. Noticing with satisfaction that his heartbeats had slowed down to a more reasonable rhythm, he put a steady hand on the handle of the last closed door, ready to go and assist Vivian upstairs. He began the same protocol as for the first door.

Unlocking it.

Pushing it slowly to take a glimpse, gun pointed.

Pushing it a bit more, taking a glimpse more.

Introducing his left foot and knee, leaning his shoulder…

Then a gunshot resounded and he heard Vivian's breathy warning in his earphone.

"Miller's running downstairs!!"

As soon as he had received the warning, his body had acted on its own and his shoulder pushed on the door. However, he didn't have the time to push it open as it was violently pulled, which made him lose his balance long enough to let a silhouette run past him while elbowing him in the stomach.

_Bastard._

When the agent regained some stability to point at the silhouette, it was too late. The hall was empty again save for a panicked Samantha jumping on her feet and trying to force open the door leading to the garage.

The main door was left ajar.

Vivian had run from upstairs and ordered him sharply, trying to catch her breath: "Go after…"

His friend hadn't finished her order he was already on his feet, starting his furious chase.

"… him!"

He rushed out of the house like a madman, oblivious of the possibility that Miller could be waiting for him outside to tackle him or to shoot him or whatever. However, he still possessed enough clarity to stop for a second and listen to the nightly noises around him.

A dog was barking in the distance, maybe alarmed by the gunshot.

Some punk was playing with the engine of his motorbike in a street nearby.

Footsteps were running away down the street in front of him.

And the chase started again. The silhouette wasn't that far away and Danny always had been a fast runner, which had been a convenient talent during his unsteady youth and a big advantage now he was an agent. He maintained his head and torso steady, used his arms the way his baseball trainer had taught him and let his legs do their job. The cool air of this autumn night rapidly began to burn his throat and lungs, and the typical ache spread in his spleen. A few yards more and breathing became more difficult. However, he took comfort in the diminishing distance between Miller and him. Moreover, the conditions were the same for the guy and the sound of his breathing was an indication of his own difficulties. A few yards more and Danny's legs were burning from foot to thigh and screaming for release, but he couldn't give up.

He wasn't giving up.

The bastard was just here, almost at arm's reach.

Almost.

Drawing his last resources from his rage, the agent made a last effort and plunged, his right hand aiming at the running feet in front of him, just like Jack had taught him. The stroke he gave to Miller's left foot as he struck the ground was the lightest but it was sufficient to make his surprised opponent lose his footing and fall heavily to the ground with a sharp cry.

"This rugby stuff is useful after all," Danny thanked his boss for this particular skill as he quickly got to his feet, the ache in his spleen and the cramps in his legs now totally forgotten. His panting prey had stood up as well but his first step faltered, causing him to let another cry of pain echo in the silent night, and almost threw him back to the ground. However, his obviously injured ankle didn't seem enough to stop him and Miller took another few rickety steps in order to distance his still immobile opponent. His pain was increasing his exhaustion due to the desperate running second by second. Each step was hurting his leg a little more. His ragged, moaning breath was almost deafening in the quiet street.

_He was pathetic._

Calmly, his gun pointed at the young man, Danny observed the downfall of Alex Miller with a perverse satisfaction. Then, when the once terrifying killer finally fell to the ground one last time, the agent cautiously walked to him and processed to handcuff him as he reminded him his rights in cold, detached tone. It was only when he began to put his suspect on his legs that he noticed the sadistic little smile deforming his pained features.

"What's the matter, Miller?"

The other stayed silent, and kept on smiling in spite of his condition.

"What the _fuck _are you smiling for, bastard?" Danny growled menacingly as he took the man by the collar.

Silence.

Then a loud crash resounded in the neighbourhood, in the direction of Miller's house, very soon followed by the typical sound of a car engine turning at high speed. Instantly, the agent let go of his prisoner and ran a few steps towards the origin of the commotion, his heart beating hard in his chest, unable to resist the wave of anguish, unable to notice that Miller's smile was slowly morphing into a desperate and hating grimace.

…/…


	12. Chapter eleven

So this is the 11th chapter. I'm continuing my weird "Rashomonic" experience and I hope you'll be willing to follow me till the end (which is approaching now, I swear). So, I'm changing the point of view from Danny to Vivian. Enjoy!

As usual, I won't forget to pay what it's due to my great beta,** Diane** (who's always great, even when she tells me about the magnificent spring day she had in California while rain pours outside at home…), and I don't want to forget **Justine**, the great kiwi, who knows to find the words to get me back to my computer to do some writing... 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my DVDs and my sick imagination…

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_**50 HOURS MISSING**_

The scream echoing in the night immediately put her into action. Vivian burst out from her car and ran towards the house. They might not have got a warrant but this latest event was worrying enough to justify the trespassing. Was Erin still alive? That would be a miracle. Did Miller abduct another student right under their noses? This simple idea infuriated her in a way she rarely had been. However, whatever the answer was, they needed to check this bloody house as soon as possible. A quick look on her left side confirmed that Jack and Samantha had followed the same train of thoughts and were rushing to back her up. As the three of them reached to the entry door, one more time she noticed with satisfaction how well this team was coordinated. They didn't need any words, habits, looks and simple gestures were largely sufficient to know what the other was going to do. And, one more time, she couldn't help but notice that the two colleagues by her side didn't seem to need any form of communication before walking into a room and a potentially dangerous situation. Without a word, she and her companions broke into the silent house, pointing at the darkness with their guns and flashlights. A few seconds went by before she saw Jack locating a light switch. A preciously decorated and furnished entry hall appeared in front of them. The ancient wooden cupboard on their right produced a nice contrast with the pale wallpaper. The different doors had been dyed to complement the natural oak colour of the furniture. The one facing them at the other end of the room seemed to lead to the back of the house where Danny had broken into a few moments before. Two doors lead to the right side of the house, one to what appeared to be the garage. Without further consultation with her partners, Vivian chose to explore the right side while Samantha and Jack cautiously progressed to the left side of the house.

The room she walked into was already lit and, besides the chaos she discovered, there was nothing to notice. Pieces of furniture and fine crockery had been thrown to the ground. Crystal remnants were scattered in the room and cut flowers miserably lay among the shards. Vivian observed the scene in front of her with circumspection. Was Miller finally losing it? She remembered the commotion that had drawn her attention earlier this day. What she was watching now was most probably the consequence of this. However, the house had remained quiet and silent since then. What was the meaning of all this? That rarely happened to her but she had to admit she was more and more confused. Was Miller playing with them as she had previously thought? Had he lost it and chosen the easy escape? Both hypotheses could explain the events of the last hours, the commotion then the frustrating silence. 

Still, there was this awful, terrified scream. 

Nothing was making any sense.

_God help them._

Vivian's attentive stare explored the room one last time before she decided to progress towards the next room. Caution should have made her wait for some back-up before walking further into the house. The problem was that she hadn't heard Jack and Sam come out of their side of the house yet. Had they found something, or _someone_? No, if that was the case, they would have called her, _right_? The other problem was the scream that still resounded in her mind. She definitely couldn't wait. The door joining both rooms had been left open. The agent slowly came near it, as if she were drawn to it, ready to step further before stopping her progression abruptly. 

This door left open…

Was it intentional? Unintentional? 

It could be a trap. It could be nothing. Beads of cold perspiration formed on her face, her neck, and her shoulders. Her now sweaty hands were slightly trembling. Her breathing was irregular due to the well-known tightening in her throat. All the signs were there.

She was afraid.

Afraid of what she could meet as she progressed further into the room.

Afraid of what was going to happen next.

Afraid to see the bad feeling she had had for hours confirmed during the next minutes.

Still, maybe somebody needed her help right now. Maybe it was just a matter of seconds, seconds she couldn't waste.

So, for once in her career, Vivian Johnson took a deep, steadying breath and threw caution to the wind as she walked into the next room. It was still dark and she fumbled a bit before finding the light switch. Then, she discovered an empty study room. The walls were occupied by wooden shelves heavy with books. A desk was placed in the middle of the room, covered with papers and more books. As she progressed farther, Vivian noticed a door on her left which probably led to the main hall. On her right, she saw a stairwell. Deciding that her three colleagues were perfectly able to finish with the first floor, she went to the stairs and began to walk up. 

When she reached the second floor, Vivian discovered a darkened space in front of her and a corridor on her right. And, at the very end of the corridor, she saw light filtering from under a closed door. 

Was Miller in there?

Was there _someone_else?

Was this a trap?

The tightening in her throat came back with a vengeance, as well as the nauseating and paralysing feeling of paranoia that had harassed since she had stepped into this bloody house. She stopped her progression for a fugitive instant, paying attention to the least noise echoing in the quiet place. She could hear her partners' footsteps resounding downstairs. She could hear the cracking in the wooden structure of the house. She could hear, or more exactly, she could sense movement in the last room.

That was it. Something was happening in there. Slowly, silently, she walked to the door, her right hand clenching her gun calmly. The fears that had assaulted her a few moments before had vanished the instant she had felt movement in this room and had given way to cold, almost detached professionalism. 

_One step more._

She was almost there.

_Another step more._

She had reached the door at last.

However, Vivian never had the opportunity to try and push it open. Suddenly, a hooded silhouette appeared in the framing of the door and a blade aimed at her throat. In spite of her surprise, the agent managed to dodge the merciless attack and jumped back, almost losing her balance in the process. Her opponent took advantage of the overture he had created and began to run to the stairwell, not even paying attention to the gunshot that had just missed him.

_Fuck._

"Miller's running downstairs!" Vivian warned her partners before throwing herself into the pursuit. 

_Fuck._

She was fuming as she rushed down the stairs. This was a trap. A fucking trap. There was nothing in this house but a trap.

There was no victim in this damn house but _the team_.

She reached the first floor without even noticing it and discovered a chaotic situation. Miller had escaped by the main door left ajar. A frantic Samantha was trying to force open the door on the right. A visibly angry Danny was getting back on his feet. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

She had to make a decision.

Quickly.

Now.

As soon as her breathing let her, she ordered Danny:

"Go after…"

She hadn't finished her sentence that her younger partner was already running after Miller.

"…him!"

Then, she went to Samantha, desperately trying to understand what was happening. The young woman had tried to shoot the lock and force the door open, in vain. Apparently, something was blocking the door, as it was impossible to push it even for a millimetre. Vivian joined her efforts to Samantha's but the door remained shut. Both women took a second to look at each other and the experimented agent saw all what she needed in her friend's panicked eyes.

It was a trap and they had fallen for it.

_Think. She had to think._

If this door was shut, maybe the outside one wasn't. Even if it was highly improbable, they had to check it. She looked up and noticed that the younger woman had had the same idea and was already on her way out. But once both women reached the garage door, their desperation grew even more. Miller had thought about everything. Hell! They had left him all the time he needed to prepare his damn plan without any disturbance! 

"What happened?" she asked finally. Maybe if she had a better grasp of the situation, she could elaborate a plan, anything. Maybe.

"That bastard…" Samantha panted. "Central heating… Fumes…" She tried to calm down long enough to utter, clearly frightened: "_He's filming everything!_" 

The despair in her friend's tone explained everything. Vivian swore inwardly. Obviously, Miller had decided he wasn't going to fall down alone and was trying to make them pay for their discovery. 

_Think. She had to think._

There had to be a solution.

There always was a solution.

They could force the door open with a car, for example.

The clicking of keys showed her that Samantha had thought about the same radical solution and had decided to go for it.

But, what if Miller had thought about it, too? The man had had hours to plan all of this and they didn't know what the bastard had prepared in the hidden depths of the garage. What if there was another trap destined to take down another member of their team? She couldn't let that happen. Jack would never forgive her this.

Vivian reached out to stop her partner in spite of her silent protestations.

But, what if there wasn't any trap? What if her hesitations cost Jack his life? 

Vivian was confused. She was tired. She was scared. She didn't know what to think anymore. The dilemma was simply too much for her and the weight and the potential consequences of each choice were overwhelming her. Was it what Miller had planned? Was this fatal indecision the real plan? Was she thinking too much?

These sudden doubts made her relax her grip on Samantha's arm unconsciously and the young woman took advantage of this to free herself.

Then, the sound of a car engine made itself heard in the quiet of the night.

Tires screeched.

The engine accelerated even more. 

And both the women just had enough time to throw themselves out of the way before a car burst out of the garage gate.

Dazed and groggy, Vivian watched the scene in front of her with disbelief. The fumes accumulated in the garage were slowly escaping in the night by the opening just created by the car. The vehicle had stopped a few yards farther down the path, in the middle of the street and Samantha immediately had run to it, repeating their boss' name and God's name again and again in the most unprofessional manner. She saw her friend open the door and lean inside. She heard someone coughing and other things she shouldn't have listened to.

She couldn't believe it.

…/…


End file.
